


Manhole Entertainment Presents: The Collaboration of the Century

by goodoldfashioned



Category: RedLetterMedia RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Drama, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pornstars, Reunions
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-02
Updated: 2021-01-22
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:07:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 154,471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23451448
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goodoldfashioned/pseuds/goodoldfashioned
Summary: Mike and Jay used to make dirty movies together. They had a falling out and went down separate paths. Mike continued directing, Jay became a webcam star. After years of avoiding each other, an enterprising friend convinces them to get together for one last blockbuster collaboration: directed by Mike, starring Jay, and probably doomed to bring about the end of the world, or at least lots of explosive drama to the wacky world of Milwaukee-based independent adult entertainers.
Relationships: Mike/Jay
Comments: 175
Kudos: 109





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Now that I've written a bunch of fics about their VCR repair shop world, it's time for the alternate universe fics, here we gooooo~ I've tried a couple before but scrapped the drafts because they weren't working without the premise that these two have known each other a long time and have a lot of tension built up already. So I figured out a way to make that work with this premise, featuring all the working together history and movie-related stuff, plus them still being weirdo Milwaukee (estranged! at the start) soulmates and I'm super excited about this verse, can't wait to hear what people think!!
> 
> I have three chapters written already and all of it planned out, and thought it would be fun to release one chapter a week or so this time around. I had a blast talking with people about the last long story I posted, so feel free to let me know what you think along the way if you like!
> 
> Hope everyone is staying safe, speaking of alternate universes. It feels like we're living in one suddenly, and writing this fic has been such a huge and needed respite from reality, so thanks again to all of you in this little fandom for encouraging me and contributing so much to how excited I am to share it! <3
> 
> **

When Mike wakes up to a text from Rich that says _did you see the article??_ he knows it’s going to be a shitty day. Rich is not known for reading articles unless they’re directly about the production company or about Mike himself, and Mike has a bad feeling that it’s the latter, considering the hour of the morning and the double question marks. Excessive punctuation is out of character for Rich, unless he’s in a state of some kind of panic. 

_no_ , Mike sends back, after dragging himself from bed and gulping some orange juice straight from the bottle. _what article_

Rich responds with a link. 

Mike groans when he sees the title in the url. It’s worse when he clicks, flooding his phone’s screen with the full title in lurid bold-type. 

THE INTERNET’S MOST NICHE AND ARDENT CULT FOLLOWING MAY BE FOR THIS EX-COUPLE’S AMATEUR GAY PORN VIDEOS: THE BIZARRE STORY OF MIKENJAY CINEMA

Mike closes his browser without reading another word and tries to focus on his email inbox instead. His heart is slamming. The sugar from the OJ isn’t helping, and he’s starting to feel panicked, almost regretting that he ignored the email requesting an interview for what he now has to presume was this fucking article. He’d hoped the thing would never happen without his input. If it features quotes from Jay he’s gonna lose it completely.

He decides to soften the blow by sending a text to Rich before attempting to read the thing himself:

_did they interview Jay_

_oh god no_ , Rich sends back, and Mike exhales, relieved. 

Rich sends two more texts:

_says something about how you both declined to respond to requests for interviews, etc._

_you seriously think he’d break his policy of pretending it never happened, for this?_

That stings, and Mike lifts his lip, staring down at his phone. Rich has never been gentle with Mike about the whole Jay thing, and Mike usually appreciates it, needs the reality check, but he’s feeling raw already, dreading how low he’ll be after he gives in and reads the article.

He putters around his apartment and distracts himself with anything he can, mostly in vain. His mind keeps circling back to that article and why the fuck someone wants to dredge their whole sordid history up again now. They’ve been written about before, and Mike has seen the fan sites, has had starry-eyed amateur couples come up to his table at the annual Midwest Expo gushing about how he and Jay inspired them, and is it really true that they aren’t together anymore, and that they tried to scrub all evidence of all their old videos off the internet, once? 

After doing as much as work as he can manage with his mind almost entirely elsewhere, Mike forces down a bagel with cream cheese as a half-assed brunch and studies his phone for a while, debating whether finally reading the article or calling his ex-wife to whine about it is a better idea.

Candy will just laugh and make fun of him for still being hung up on Jay, which he fucking isn’t, okay, so he opens the article, scowling and thinking of proving her wrong. He can read this bullshit without breaking down. He’s been dealing with the fallout of his breakup with Jay for almost nine years. This is surely nothing new, just a clickbait retread by some asshole who continues to obsess over the videos they made together. Big mc’fuckin deal, whatever. Mike can take it.

It’s past noon and he’s not shooting anything today, so he cracks open a beer and goes out to his little porch with his phone, trying to at least take advantage of the sun that’s been poking through the clouds at last in recent weeks. It’s the end of April, hints of better days ahead on the wind. 

Stretched out in his deck chair, Mike gulps from his beer and pulls his web browser up just as a new text comes in from Rich.

_have you read it yet?_

This question doesn’t bode well. Mike starts to sweat a little under his t-shirt, though it’s still pretty cool outside despite the sunlight. 

_just about to start it now_ , he sends back. _anything I should brace for in advance?_

 _a bunch of quotes from Gil_ , Rich replies.

“Oh, fuck me!” Mike groans out, glowering at the article as he begins to read.

Even the author’s name is fucking stupid. Sylvan Carswell. Is that a man or a woman? Mike supposes it doesn’t matter. It sounds like the name of a stupid trust fund baby freelancing prick, regardless.

_Do you remember the first porn video you ever watched? I asked a variety of people in my life this question as preparation for writing this article. Some told me of course they remembered, and relayed detailed stories featuring embarrassment and curiosity. Some tried to recall and could not. Others told me that’s too personal a question and politely asked me to fuck off._

“Yeah,” Mike mutters, scrolling down. “Fuck off.”

 _My first exposure to porn was through the wavy lines of the Spice Channel on cable, sometimes totally indecipherable as anything but static but sometimes coming through with shocking, miraculous clarity. Later came the internet, and thirty second clips downloaded for hours at a time. That was college, and I was still a few years away from finding the first truly memorable porn of my career as a casual connoisseur: the MikeNJay Cinema videos that started appearing on RedTube shortly after its creation in 2009, later on GayTube, xTube, and finally wherever people could find them post-2011, when their creators took down their fledging production company’s website and attempted, in vain, to remove the by then widespread video content they had released over their independent studio’s roughly seven year existence._

_As it turns out, these videos had been produced as early as 2002, when the couple who starred in, edited, and in some cases wrote them - Mike and Jay, who both declined to be interviewed for this article - started making them at first just for fun, for each other._

“In some cases,” Mike mutters, disliking the implication that any of their videos were wholly unscripted. They did a lot of ad-libbing, naturally, but there was always a plot and a scene structure, and Mike was usually the writer. 

In fact, if this Sylvan person was so fucking interested, it was the writing of the goddamn things that caused all the fights that wrecked everything eventually.

Though, also-- That would be simplifying it, maybe.

_The videos that initially made them internet famous were a series of story-based shorts wherein a green-haired, leather jacket-wearing punk named Sid (played by Mike) menaces his neighbor, a petite dweeb in giant glasses by the name of Dex (played by Jay), this menacing always resulting in sex that feels somewhere between a fist fight and a tender escape from the characters’ otherwise miserable lives. It was some combination of this tension between the bully and the bullied character and the fact that Mike and Jay were an actual couple who had by then been together and attempting to make movies of a non-pornographic nature together for years that made the videos a sensation in certain circles even before they hit the internet years later. Prior to that, via amateur porn trading and other ‘scene’-based forums, Mike and Jay had sold their homemade porn via VHS tapes and then DVDs, mailing them directly to buyers who sent them checks in the mail after being enticed by preview clips and images, and also by the videos’ growing reputation as something worth seeing._

Mike snorts and pulls his hand down over his face, feels sweat gathering at the back of his neck. It’s probably ironic, considering his line of work and that he got his start in the industry by starring in his own fuck films, but he gets anxious when people talk about him, especially in article form. The phrase ‘something worth seeing’ makes him think with a heart-aching nostalgia of the bad reviews that he and Jay used to post on their site as ironic jokes and to show they didn’t give a shit, that they were going to make the kind of weird porn they were into and nothing else. Their favorite became a kind of motto for the site, originally posted on as a comment on one of the amateur video trading forums: 

“These videos are FRAUDS, they are not even called Sid and Dex in real life, they are a couple of hack filmmakers from WISCONSIN who were high school sweethearts, BORING.” 

They’d never claimed to be Sid and Dex in real life, nor high school sweethearts. They met during Mike’s junior year in college, when Jay was a freshman. They were both in the film program at Columbia in Chicago. Mike was there on a scholarship and had a decent job doing AV tech for the theater department. Jay had neither and never finished his degree, mostly for financial reasons. By the time Mike graduated they were already inseperable, though not fucking each other yet. They ended up in Milwaukee because Jay’s family was nearby, and another reason he’d quit school was to work full time at his uncle’s hardware store in the city to help support his mother, whose second husband had just left her, and his half-sisters who were still in middle and high school. Mike had admired Jay a lot for this, and was approaching the realization that he was deeply in love with the frustrating little twerp, too. 

The movies they made together during that era, around 2000 and persisting for about two years, were bad, sex-free, and seen by very few people. There was little interest when they tried to promote them on filmmaking forums online, and even if a dozen or so people were mildly impressed by their attempts at horror, comedy, or drama, it was clear they were going nowhere fast along that trajectory. Jay had massive debt from his two years at Columbia and the credit cards he’d applied for to help his family out. Mike was working wedding videography jobs with Jay to pay the bills and felt broke and tired all the time. Being in love with Jay increasingly felt like his full time job, and it wore on him, because Jay would go from saying he was probably asexual, to maybe bi, to potentially just straight and bad with women, never offering any indication that he was attracted to Mike, until the day when everything changed and they inadvertantly made their first porno together.

Mike groans, thinking of that video. He stupidly mentioned it in an interview on a website ten years ago, when they were still together. Jay was mad at him for sharing that particular origin story with the world, though he wouldn’t admit it at the time. Now the legend that Mike and Jay’s first time together was near-accidentally caught on video, and that only two copies exist, one in Mike’s possession and one in Jay’s, still floats around the internet and comes up anytime someone does one of these obnoxious run-downs of their history. Mike sucks it up and resumes reading the current one, bracing himself to see a mention of that video, which he’s watched possibly more times than any media other in existence.

 _The MikeNJay Cinema website launched on Angelfire in 2004. The production company name is a significant pun, considering Mike was always the one, er, inside Jay, to put it bluntly, and never the reverse-- At least in every video that’s been found and catalogued to date. Rabid fans continue to speculate about videos that may or may not exist, and which may or may not have ever been posted online or distributed even by VHS tape, the rarest of these unicorns being the couple’s actual first time together, caught on camera unintentionally when a closed-set scene shot for a never released, non-pornographic movie became something else entirely, at least according to Mike, who set fans’ imaginations afire when recounting this in an interview with the now defunct online trade magazine_ Sex Sells.

There it is, Mike thinks, wrinkling his nose. Right on cue. He allows himself to imagine Jay reading this and being pissed off all over again at seeing it brought up. He’s let himself wonder if Jay even still has the only other copy of their first time video. It’s the kind of thing Jay would claim to have destroyed for the sake of a ‘clean break,’ but Mike doesn’t want to believe those kinds of claims, even now.

_That frantic need to find and collect rare or once-lost material is part of what’s behind the MikeNJay craze that persists to this day and is in some ways is more active than ever, as it’s reached a new audience with the proliferation of new, younger fans on Tumblr (pre-porn purge) and other social media sites that facilitate this kind of content-sharing. Not only is there the quest to find a complete collection of decent-quality videos for each of the major ongoing storylines in the multiple series of MikeNJay shorts, there’s also the element of supplemental material that represents the former couple’s actual relationship: pictures and videos of the two together that were once posted on their website as behind the scenes promotional material, or more candid shots taken from social media accounts of friends or family, going back as far as 1998 and harvested as recently as 2011, when Mike and Jay parted ways for reasons much speculated upon but still unknown._

Mike feels his mouth twisting into a kind of grimacing smile at the mention of this kind of shit, because he knows it drives Jay crazy that little glimpses of the two of them looking like a normal couple are floating around amid the videos of Mike fucking Jay as a punk bully, or a frat guy, or a biker who develops a soft spot for Jay’s doe-eyed Amish runaway character. Jay would rather have a close up of his fucked-open ass splashed across the internet than have to face the reality that there are pictures of young Mike kissing him on the cheek during his birthday party still in the hands of unauthorized users who aren’t paying Jay monthly for access to the painstakingly curated version of whatever his actual life is like now. 

The article goes on to detail what biographical information the author was able to gather about the two of them: where they both grew up and met, how they made unreleased indie movies together before that captured-on-film-but-never-seen-by-anyone-but-them epiphany moment when they eased their way slowly into their lives as porn stars, also as boyfriends, and the fact that they broke up and nobody knew quite why, finally coming to where they are now.

_Mike has found moderate success as a director of more mainstream, still low-budget and independently produced films, continuing to work out of Milwaukee and mainly with a small and devoted crew, many of whom have been with him since the days when MikeNJay videos branched out beyond a two-person production team. Mike no longer appears on camera and hasn’t given an interview in any media format since breaking up with Jay, a subject he has never discussed. Jay disappeared from the adult entertainment world entirely for almost three years, allegedly working retail and adamantly refusing to address his past with anyone who happened to recognize him, until suddenly emerging as a webcam star in 2014, having shed weight, straightened the crooked teeth that the old MikeNJay videos seemed to embrace as part of his appeal, and having seemingly done a one-eighty on rejecting his life and fame as a porn star. His channel on the gay-focused DixOnline streaming platform is one of the most popular on the site, with over 90,000 subscribers to date. His internet fame is multi-dimensional, as he also has a YouTube channel where he discusses sex work, cult cinema, and any number of things on his mind, as long as those things have nothing to do with his past relationship with Mike or the many videos they made and released together. Jay does a weekly Q &A with his subscribers and is infamous for ignoring questions relating to his time with Mike, personally or professionally, arguably only adding fuel to people’s obsession with figuring out what happened, exactly. Just make sure you take the hint and don’t ask more than twice-- Fans of his advise that the unwritten rule is a third strike results in a temporary ban from his channel, and lifetime bans have been issued for the most persistent offenders._

Mike scoffs and tries not to think about the times, some of his lowest points, when he was that anonymous person in one of Jay’s chats, either the explicit ones for subscribers on Dix or the pompous windbag Q&As where he’s fully dressed and all too happy to act as if people should care deeply about what he thinks about the 1989 remake of _Swamp Mistress_ but are completely out of line to ask about his actual life and how he got here, webcam-ing it up like he was born for this kind of shameless, soulless shilling out of his now-perfect body. 

_Drama aside, the MikeNJay videos are fascinating to many even outside of their basic function as, well, porn. The most enduringly cult-popular one is the Bully/Nerd series, as it’s called by fans. Mike and Jay never officially named the series, so far as we can tell, and sent out the first VHS tapes they sold for it with handwritten labels such as ‘DEX LOSES HIS V-CARD TO SID - PART II’ and other such monikers. These artifacts now command prices of $300 - $400 per tape. The Bully/Nerd series is known for its escalation into a kind of twisted love story between the two characters, in which their dialogue is often funny and sometimes genuinely touching. That these scenes are punctuated with unapologetic, somewhat dark, explicit sex scenes is what makes them such an interesting anomaly of the genre and even kind of singular, in the sense that there was a real, seemingly fraught love story underlying the storylines that the co-stars wrote together for their characters. As the videos were gaining popularity and moving toward the online hosted video services that would eventually launch them toward indie gay fame, fans on the MikeNJay forums sought information about the lives of the two stars and collaborators. They were supplied with perhaps strategic tidbits that told just enough of the story to make fans feel included while still curious and hungry for more information, some of which could be purchased as behind the scenes content and more exclusive access levels on the site._

_“It was a brilliant marketing strategy,” says Gil Hornblower, a former friend of the couple and the original designer of the MikeNJay Cinema website. He also describes himself as a “sometimes collaborator,” though I’m unclear as to how, exactly (Hornblower never appears in any videos, in the credits or otherwise). He now serves as the marketing director for L.A.-based Under the Lake Adult Entertainment, a mostly mainstream porn production brand that also occasionally branches into the kind of “delightfully weird, memorably unique” content that Hornblower says the old MikeNJay brand represents and is hard to replicate._

Mike has to put the phone down for a second and finish his beer, his ears burning at the thought of Gil more than happily giving this goddamn interview. The fucker probably heard this article was in the works and called up the writer ten times a day, begging to contribute. 

_“Mike was the mastermind behind their promotional approach,” Hornblower says. “He was brilliant at getting people to see Jay the way that [Mike] did, which was as this nymph-like creature of extreme attractiveness, kind of mysterious and vulnerable and everything that was packed into all these characters Mike wrote for him. All that was accentuated by how they would tease these hints of their actual relationship on the website. Just as a fellow filmmaker who had to rely on self-promotion, I was desperate to be friends with him and learn his magic.”_

“Desperate’s fuckin’ right,” Mike says, glowering down at his phone. He’s not even really mad at Gil anymore, and they were something like actual friends in the immediate fallout of Mike’s breakup with Jay, when Gil was also still in touch with Jay and therefore a crucial and deceptively patient source of Jay intel for Mike. He was also feeding everything Mike said and did back to Jay, at least according to Gil, who eventually admitted this as a way of trying to convince rock bottom Mike that Jay had cared about him, too, once, really.

_“It’s fascinating because Mike was the truly magnetic one,” Hornblower continues, animated to the point that he could be mistaken for one of the avid fans who collect MikeNJay videos and memorabilia._

“Ya think?” Mike says, feeling his face heating, too. Gil purports to be straight. Mike has never seen any real evidence that he isn’t, outside of his apparently continuing obsession with Mike and Jay and their-- Everything.

_“Mike was doing stuff that nobody was doing, and he was doing it in the service of this awkward little dude who fought him every step of the way,” claims Hornblower. “It’s not really my place to say, but there was always a lot of push and pull between those two in terms of what the videos should be, or at least evolve into. It got very heated. Jay had his ideas, which, in my opinion, were reductive. Mike was trying to make this thing into the creative revolution it could have been, and Jay, well. He’s been very successful as a webcam star in recent years, with everything centered around him and his solo strip shows or whatever. Whereas Mike got stuck in a rut doing mainstream stuff after he lost, shall we say, his muse.”_

Mike knows Gil is sincerely trying to defend him, for whatever level of sincerity Gil is ever capable of, but he’s still grinding his teeth on Jay’s behalf as he reads this. It’s is an extremely limited, inaccurate take on what went on between Mike and Jay and the whole nexus of their collaboration, to the point that Mike almost wishes he’d just let Sylvan interview him, too, to set the record straight.

But just the thought of talking about Jay candidly, honestly, in a way that reflects the reality of what Mike experienced back then, and why it ended--

His stomach drops, and: nope. Never gonna happen. Mike isn’t as bad as Jay, flaunting his semi-fame while refusing to talk about where it comes from, but he’s not okay with talking about it either. Jay hides from it in plain sight. Mike just hides. He doesn’t even sit at the Manhole Entertainment table at the Midwest Expo anymore, too tired of stammering through non-answers for bright-eyed fans who want to hear that he and Jay secretly reunited behind the scenes, or only ever “broke up” for publicity. 

If only, Mike thinks, and he scowls at himself, imagining the nightmare of life with current-form Jay. He’s still hung up on the little Jay he met in Lighting and Framing 201, the one who pointedly smirked at Mike’s dumb jokes during class and followed him to the school cafeteria afterward like of course they were going to be friends now. Mike can admit that he misses that Jay, every fucking day. But the present Jay can go fuck himself, and the old Jay that Mike loved was always heading in his present shithead direction, sad as Mike is to admit it. 

_The evolution of the MikeNJay brand as seen from a consumer of their videos shows a veer in the direction of more lowbrow and highbrow concepts almost at the same time, which perhaps represents this divide in creative control that Hornblower alludes to, though it’s hard to say who was responsible for which. The Bully/Nerd saga never quite had a proper conclusion before two new recurring series started appearing on the website. In the last known installment of their story, Dex the nerd gets kidnapped by what appear to be aliens who want to probe him, only to be rescued by Sid in the nick of time, which was an absurd turn that also seemed to suggest the characters might stop pretending they hated each other, which was a staple of the dynamic. Next came the Dude Bros series, in which three frat brothers live together in a dumpy apartment and have homoerotic adventures ranging from lewd, parody-esque humor to hardcore threesome action, which shocked fans of the MikeNJay duo-only brand when the videos were first released. The third actor in these scenes was Lance Peterson, a film school friend of the two who left the adult entertainment industry after this brief stint and now sells boats at a dealership on Lake Michigan. Also now a married father of two, Peterson declined comment on this story._

_Appearing almost concurrently alongside the Dude Bros series was the short lived but high quality Rumspringa series, in which Jay played an Amish teen who’d left the farm for his wild year. Jay was almost thirty at the time of shooting, but still affected a clueless innocence with skill, and looked youthful, despite by then having gained enough weight that he was almost unrecognizable compared to the beanpole Jay of the 2003 videos. Opposite him, Mike played an unnamed biker-without-a-gang who found and looked after the Amish kid while also teaching him about the joys of rough gay sex._

Mike snarls both at this crass characterization of the Rumspringa series and at the suggestion that Jay was ‘almost unrecognizable’ from his younger self after having gained barely twenty pounds. He hopes Jay won’t read this, though he’s cut and confident now, physically perfect so far as Mike can tell via his secret, deeply encrypted subscriptions to Jay’s premium Dix website content. Jay was so insecure about the weight gain back then that he tried to blame some of the awful final fight they had on what he viewed as his physical decline, as if Mike didn’t always see him as perfect.

Mike looks down at himself, frowning. For a while he was close to a hundred pounds overweight. Now it’s more like fifty, and every pound he’s shed since he started giving a shit about life again when Candy left him has felt like battling uphill while carrying all the years and meals and beers of his entire life on his back the whole way.

_Abruptly in late 2011, the MikeNJay website disappeared. Devoted fans panicked and tried to reach out to Mike and Jay in any way possible to find out what happened. Videos were deleted from the internet, only to be reuploaded and passed around between fans who’d saved copies. Those that were reposted were taken down again, rinse and repeat, well on into 2014, when Jay reappeared to claim his webcam-based fame. Mike had been quietly making adult films since 2013, acting as DP for productions helmed by his friend Len until amassing enough cred in the industry to direct his own pictures, which at times have some of the funny, touching flavor of the old MikeNJay productions, while never reaching that level of strange tenderness that attracts a following to the MikeNJay videos to this day. Mike also married then-burlesque performer/exotic dancer and eventual adult film star Candy Demonda in 2013, and remained in what was a purportedly rocky marriage to her until they divorced in 2016._

_There are still whole message board subsections devoted to MikeNJay gossip, discussion, and video trading. The gossip fascinates me, I’ll confess, and while I expected as much, it was mildly crushing, as a fan myself, to be denied access to Mike and/or Jay’s sides of the story when I reached out to both about this article and got no response from either of them. Maybe someday a more persuasive journalist will reach them, or perhaps one or both of them will have interest in doing a documentary feature on the phenomenon in their later years, when whatever went wrong feels farther away. There is something to be said for the money they’re losing by not officially rereleasing collections of the three major series, not to mention the rarer material one or both of them hopefully still has access to. It’s too dark to imagine that everything still unseen was destroyed in a moment of anger or defeat. I asked their former friend Hornblower if he thinks that could be the case._

_“Doubtful,” Hornblower says, after what seems to be some thoughtful consideration. “They were both aware that what they were doing was something special, and, if I can be frank, I don’t think either of them has been involved in anything even a tenth as special since then. Mike has virtually no ego, but he’s a sentimental guy. I can’t see him destroying singular copies of even old outtakes. Jay has more of a business sense, perhaps, and he’s too vain to not want to control at least some of the official record, if he possesses it. I’ve thought--” Hornblower breaks off here and seems hesitant, then spills: “I’ve thought about encouraging them to bury the hatchet and do something with all the old stuff they might be sitting on, or at least remaster and properly release the major series. Or, hell. They could always do something new.”_

_I can’t say how accurately that potential reflects reality, and all signs certainly seem to point to Mike and Jay both wanting to continue to leave it all behind them, but I can tell you one thing, as a frequenter of certain forums where they are still discussed fervently on a daily basis: just the suggestion of new material would cause a fervor among their many devoted fans, and, if it were to happen? It could very well make a fortune._

That’s the end of the article. Mike sits staring into space for a while after finishing it, shivering with a kind of latent rage that he’s not sure where to direct. Gil has always been an infuriating opportunist, and the fact that he’s a rich bigwig out in L.A. now stings as bad as ever, but he’s basically harmless at the end of the day. The writer of the article made some obnoxious assumptions but isn’t wrong that not pursuing copyright claims on the old videos and releasing them as proper DVDs or on some kind of streaming service means turning their backs on cash that’s going into the pockets of whomever collects ad revenue on streaming services where the bootleg copies get posted and reposted so often that Mike has given up on reporting them. Mike has to wonder if Jay would even take dirty money with Mike’s fingerprints on it anymore, and when he feels himself sneering he knows exactly where he wants to direct his rage.

He hefts himself out of the lounge chair and goes back inside, opening the fridge with another beer in mind. He slams the fridge shut again without pulling one out, because he’s not doing that day drinking, sad sack, beer bloat shit anymore. He’s forty-one years old, and all this nonsense with Jay took place over nine years ago now. He’s past it, he’s-- It’s fine. 

It will be fine. 

He calls Candy and gets no answer, as if she can sense that he’s again trying to use her as a crutch for his Jay angst and wants none of that after almost three years of being married to it. He takes a shower, trying to wash his bad feelings off, and tries to refocus on the edit he’d been working on the day before. It’s for an uninspired locker room gangbang thing that his heart isn’t even halfway in, and when he hears his phone ringing he’s relieved. Assuming it’s Candy, he picks it up without looking at who’s calling.

“Hey,” Mike says, still clicking around on his editing program.

“Mike!”

Oh, god. That voice.

“It’s Gil! Gil Hornblower! How the hell are you, old man?”

Mike closes his eyes and exhales as soundlessly as possible. This is bad. His hand is already clenched around the phone in a painful clawing grip at the sound of Gil’s voice. They haven’t spoken since 2013, which was the first time Gil tried to air Mike and Jay’s dirty laundry in public, online. 

“Hello?” Gil says, in his barking yet simpering way. “My-ku-san? You there? Did I lose ya?”

“How’d you get this number,” Mike asks.

Gil cracks up laughing.

“It’s a serious question,” Mike says when this hilarity has mostly tapered off. 

“Mike, Mike,” Gil says. “Jack is right, you haven’t changed at all.” 

“Jack?” Mike should have guessed. Jay got Jack in their breakup. Jack and Mike are still friendly, if they happen to run into each other at an industry event, but Jack’s loyalties have always lain with Jay, and he probably gave Mike’s number to Gil just to get Gil off Jay’s back. 

“Look, it’s neither here nor there, suffice to say I have many contacts in the biz-- Yes, even in fucking Milwaukee! So funny that you’re still there. I mean, it’s wonderful, really, you’re so authentic, I always admired that about you foremost--”

“What do you want, Gil.” 

Gil does a giggle-snort combo thing that makes Mike physically cringe away from the phone and consider hanging up. He’s always had a hard time being unkind to Gil, no matter how flagrantly obnoxious his wheedling gets. There’s something desperate and lonely behind it, even now, and Mike has a soft spot for desperate, lonely people. He knows the feeling.

“I imagine you’ve seen the article by now,” Gil says. “Though you do seem like the type who might resist the urge to set up a Google alert for yourself?”

“I’ve seen it,” Mike says, choosing not to mention that Gil is right about that latter thing. “What about it.”

“What about it? What _about_ it? Umm, welllll, what did you think? I’m afraid you must hate me, you always hated it when I tried to talk you up.” 

“I did, that’s true.”

“So? No further thoughts? I was just thinking, what better time for me to reconnect with you than after I’ve made an ass of myself yet again while trying to pump up your business. Listen, but, seriously-- I’ve got a lot of thoughts. A lot of thoughts, Mike. Talking to that journalist guy about the past, you know, about all that ancient history-- It got me thinking. And I think we should have lunch.” 

“Nah,” Mike says, and then, “Wait, are you in town?”

“I am indeed! Well, in Chicago. But what’s an hour and a half drive in a rental car if it means I can see my old buddy for the first time in, what, seven years? What do you say? You busy tomorrow?”

“I am, actually. I have a shoot.”

“Of course you do. Look, I’m here for the week, and I wasn’t going to bring this up because it’s really not my place, but Jack mentioned something that I think you’d like to know and which, unfortunate as it may be, could influence your feelings on these ideas I’ve been having and on whether or not you’d be willing to hear them out.” 

“I never have any idea what you’re talking about, Gil. What did Jack say?”

“Hmm, how do I put this delicately. Since you’ve read the article, I’m sure you’re thinking, like I’ve been thinking, about the tragically unclaimed heap of money that not trying to remaster and release the old shorts you guys made represents. Not to mention the other potential beyond that.” 

“It’s not like that’s something I don’t think about every day of my life anyway.” 

Mike feels himself flushing after saying so. He hadn’t meant to admit that. Mike’s low opinion of the fool has always resulted in his tongue getting too loose around Gil.

“Wow, okay,” Gil says. “I thought you were okay, though, ah. Financially?”

“The fact that I am is exactly why I haven’t bothered with the huge legal pain in the ass that trying to release that old content now would involve.”

Gil isn’t dumb enough to not understand what Mike is really afraid of. In order to pursue copyright claims and release the material properly, he’d need Jay’s permission and cooperation. Which means he’d have to talk to Jay. Even communicating with him through lawyers is something Mike still can’t fathom, despite the nearly nine years since their breakup and the fact that Mike sometimes sends Jay questions during his Dix subscriber Q&As, ranging from drunken trolling to hideously embarrassing attempts to determine if Jay is single or not. Jay tends to ignore all of Mike’s questions, as if he somehow knows that bearsfan84, jokerboy69 and mustlovecats5 are all Mike, despite Mike’s elaborate efforts to conceal his identity when purchasing his multiple subscriptions. 

“It’s good to hear you’re doing okay,” Gil says. “Always knew you’d land on your feet, even if the landing place was less than ideal. Saw your last picture, have some notes if you’re interested, but really what I’m trying to say is that-- And I don’t know if you care or not, but, well. Jay isn’t doing so great. Financially. Says Jack, anyway.” 

This takes the breath out of Mike’s lungs. It’s been his biggest fear since the slap in the face shock of seeing Jay reappear online as a camboy, fit and polished with realigned teeth and weirdly perfect hair. Of course he’s only doing it for the money, the money is why people do these things, but Mike had wanted to believe, not just now but always, that Jay loved the exhibitionist component sincerely, that he really also just liked doing all this stuff. The fact that Jay has always been desperate for money is something Mike tried to ignore until he couldn’t, until it was part of every unsaid thing that finally blew up in their faces.

“Mike?” Gil says, with put-on gentleness. “You still there, buddy?”

“What exactly did Jack say about this?” Mike asks, when he can speak again. 

“Ohhh, gosh. Rather than repeating the sordid details via this literal game of telephone, how about this. How about a meeting? Me, you, Jack. And, let’s say, maybe, because crazier things have happened, and because it would be necessary to move forward with some of the ideas I have-- Jay, too.”

“Jay, too-- What? Fuck no, are you crazy? He could be begging on the street with his dick out and he still wouldn’t sit down to a fucking business lunch with me.”

Mike feels like he’s just ripped his own heart out, saying so. He’s almost dizzy, has to turn away from his computer and rub his hand over his face. His palm is sweaty. 

“Not so sure that’s true, Mike,” Gil says, gentling his voice in that obnoxious way again. “Just not so sure. Because, while Jay still refuses to speak to me, Jack seemed to imply Jay might finally be ready for something like this, for practical reasons if nothing else. Jay’s had some other troubles in recent years, too, beyond the financial. Don’t know if you’ve heard about that.”

“I haven’t.” Mike stands, realizes how heavily he’s begun to breathe, and abruptly sits again. “What troubles.”

“With, well-- Stalkers, to put it bluntly. One guy back in 2014, another one in 2016 I think, and recently he had to get a restraining order against another one--”

“Holy shit. Why--” 

Mike stops himself before he can ask why he wasn’t told about this. Who the fuck was going to tell him? For all he knows, Jay probably thought the first stalker was Mike.

“Why? Well, because he’s not careful enough, even as careful as he is, and he’s doing all this on his own. The madman doesn’t even have an agent! Unless Jack counts, but what the fuck does Jack know about talent management. I’m trying to help here, Mike, is what I’m saying. I’m trying to help you both, and I think if you show up to a lunch, his squirrelly little ass would show up, too. And then maybe we could really work something out that would benefit you both, maybe even more than you can possibly imagine. You know, Under the Lake is looking to produce a new gay feature in the next quarter. Something different, something strange and cool that will get people talking. They’re taking ideas right now, having meetings. I have all the obvious connections. Just saying! Just dreaming big for a second here, just throwing some ideas out. Mike?”

Mike clears his throat, and still isn’t sure he’ll be able to speak without a shake in his voice after he has. His hands are trembling. What the fuck. People are stalking Jay? To the point of-- He’s got restraining orders out? Mike feels both queasy with the need to kill these people with his bare hands and also vaguely accused. He’s always felt weird about watching Jay’s channels. He doesn’t do it obsessively, just when he’s feeling sorry for himself--

“Mike?” Gil says again. “Hello? Did I kill you with the mere suggestion of--”

“Fine,” Mike says, gruffly. “Whatever, if-- If you can actually get him to agree to that kind of meeting, I’d show up. We’ve let people pass the content around for free for too long. We worked hard on that shit, we deserve to make some cash off it. That’s all, though. Don’t you fucking show up with some proposal to-- Jesus, to work together again. You’d have to be out of your mind to even think that could work, Gil.”

“I’ve been accused of being out of my mind before! Frequently by you! But Mike, seriously, thank you. This is going to be a good thing, I promise you. Maybe a little hard, but I’ll be there for you, and Jack will be there for Jay, and we’ll--”

“I’m bringing Rich,” Mike says, fighting the urge to scoff with disgust at the suggestion that Gil is Mike’s equivalent of the kind of friend Jack is to Jay.

“Oh, uh. I guess you guys still work together, huh? How is old Richie Rich?”

“He’s fine. And he’s coming to this thing, if it happens. I take it you don’t have an actual agreement from Jay yet?”

“Well, not as such, but--”

“Call me back when you do, with a date, time, and place.”

Mike hangs up before Gil can spew more upsetting information and proposals at him. He goes to the fridge again and stands there with the door open, chest heaving as he stares in at the three beers on the top shelf. When someone knocks on his apartment’s front door, he curses and jumps, everything on the door of the fridge rattling angrily when it jerks in his grip. 

The day has been so full of unpleasant, unprocessable surprises that Mike almost expects Jay to be standing out there with a look of fury and a restraining order to shove in Mike’s face. He exhales with relief when he looks through the peep hole and sees that it’s just Rich.

“Thought maybe you could use some comfort food,” Rich says, lifting the greasy takeout bag he’s holding when Mike opens the door. “And-- Wow,” he says, his expression shifting to queasy concern as he takes in Mike’s current pale, sweaty, overwhelmed state. “Looks like I was right. You okay? The article wasn’t that bad, it’s just--”

“I just got off the phone with Gil Hornblower.”

“Oh, jesus.” Rich recoils, wincing. “Did we ever figure out what his real name is?”

“It doesn’t-- Matter, Rich! Get in here.”

Rich unpacks the food at the dining room table, and Mike decides the time for a second afternoon beer is now. With Rich here, at least he won’t end up having a third, or a fourth. He also grabs one of the Diet Cokes he keeps on hand for Rich and brings both drinks to the table, cracking open his beer and ignoring Rich’s soft yet judgmental sigh.

“Before you sigh at me,” Mike says, thunking the beer down beside the burger and fries that Rich set out for him, “You should know that Gil was calling to try to set up a meeting between me and Jay, and that I said yes.”

“What!?” Rich says, near-shrieking in a way that makes Mike lean backward a bit, though he’s used to the sometimes suddenly startling volume of Rich’s voice. They’ve known each other since high school. “What-- Why? How-- When??”

Mike sits down and takes a giant bite of his burger, though he isn’t really hungry. He just doesn’t know how to answer any of those questions, and it’s true that he’s easily comforted by food, appetite notwithstanding. 

Rich sits down across from him and reaches for his own burger, frowning like he’s afraid Mike might be hallucinating in a state of psychic distress. Mike has to admit that seems the more likely explanation than any of this actually happening, even in theory. He feels like he was just visited by a ghost from the present who warned him he’d be visited by two more spirits soon: the past, and the horrifying future.

“Gil’s up to something,” Mike says after he’s swallowed and thought about it a little more, calmed already by Rich’s skeptical presence. “I’m sure of it. He’s probably got more to do with that article than just giving quotes, and he mentioned Under the Lake wanting to do some big gay feature soon.”

“What’s that got to do with us?” Rich asks, and Mike appreciates the use of ‘us’ instead of ‘you.’ Ever since Mike lost Jay, Rich has been the other half of him business-wise, though Rich does little more than simple camera work and mailing out fan merch in practice. The sense of unquestionable moral support is his real job, as far as Mike is concerned, and Rich is Manhole Entertainment’s only full time employee for that reason. 

“He implied in the article and in our conversation that Jay and I might work together again,” Mike says. 

Rich snorts. “Yeah, I’ll hold my breath on that one. There’s no way he actually got Jay to speak to him.”

“No, but he’s been in communication with Jack, allegedly.”

“Oh yeah?” Rich grins at the mention of Jack. They were pretty good friends with each other before Mike and Jay’s breakup forced them to unofficially pick sides and part ways. “How’s Jack doing?”

“He’s fine, I guess, you know, married with kids, all that shit-- The point is, Rich-- The _point_ , the thing Gil said that he fucking knew would sway me, so who knows if it’s true, but. He claims Jay is having a hard time with money. That he needs this.”

“This?”

“To rerelease the old MikeNJay content with an official distributor, at the very least.”

“Hmm.” Rich eats a few fries, looking thoughtful. “That does sound like the kind of bullshit Gil would feed you to get you to care,” he says. 

Mike doesn’t like this remark, though he knows it’s true. 

“I don’t-- Look, Jay’s financial problems are his own, that’s irrelevant to me, but-- I mean, you know how Jay is, Rich. Or how he was, I guess. I just-- It’s never sat right with me, this peacocking for webcam tips shit, plus the personal video essays and taking questions from fans, jesus, he hated our fans! It’s not like him, and I wonder-- You know, the weight loss and everything, sure, he looks healthy, but he could have a drug problem--”

“Mike, you’re getting hysterical.”

“I’m not!” Mike pounds the table with his fist, hardly demonstrating his rationality, but maybe there’s no point in pretending for Rich, anyway. “I mean, but-- Can you blame me? This is fucked up, Rich, and I’m just-- Just, maybe tell me what to do, yeah? I’m freaking the fuck out, sure, I’ll admit it! Fine!”

“Drink your beer,” Rich says, waving his hand in the bottle’s direction. “Take deep breaths. Having a meeting with Jay wouldn’t be the end of the world. And, yeah. I’ve had the same thought about Jay stripping on a webcam. There can’t be anything entirely good behind that choice.”

Mike whimpers around the neck of his beer bottle after he’s swallowed down three gulps. 

“Don’t say that,” he says, his voice thin and cracked when he puts the bottle down.

Rich rolls his eyes.

“Oh god,” Rich mutters, staring down at his burger, shaking his head. “You’re still in love with him.”

“I’m not! I’m fucking not, Rich, look at me, goddamn you. I’m not. I’m just-- The old Jay, you know. I never got over him. I never got closure. The new one repulses me. Well, maybe that’s too strong, but-- I don’t know him, and I don’t want to. And I don’t want to have lunch with him, Rich. I’d rather die.”

“Then why’d you say yes.”

Mike has no answer. He just sits there despairing, staring at Rich until he feels his lip trembling. 

“Get a hold of yourself,” Rich says. “This is a good opportunity for you, and not just for the extra income. Like you said, you never got closure. Not just on the Jay and you thing, but on the videos being reposted, spreading everywhere and gaining this freaky following, and you feeling detached from it and like it’s out of your control. I think you’d get something out of remastering them, releasing them with some old bonus footage, you know-- Working on a project you actually care about, for a change.”

Mike shoves more of the burger into his mouth instead of saying: but what if I care too much.

“And seeing Jay--” Rich makes an uncertain, semi-queasy face and shrugs. “It could be good, too? For closure, uh. If he’s willing to meet up, he must be willing to make amends.”

“Or just willing to make some cash that he desperately needs,” Mike says, still chewing.

“Yeahh, but maybe realizing that would break this old spell he still has over you. Right? You say the new Jay is a stranger, and I’m sure that’s true, but maybe seeing him face to face would be a comfort, ‘cause it would make you confront that you two went your separate ways, grew apart, whatever. Right now, this whole thing where you two have avoided each other completely for nine years, despite living in the same city, which is really kind of amazing--”

“He’s a recluse, Rich.”

Rich seems to withhold a comment that would probably have been: and you’re not? Which is not entirely fair. Mike gets around. Sometimes. When his work requires it, or when Rich forces him to hang out with their old friends from high school. When Mike was married to Candy he went out on the town with her almost every night. The fact that he can’t remember most of those evenings doesn’t make this not true. 

“Anyway,” Rich says, “My point is that right now you’re both holding onto the ghost of each other from nine years ago. Seeing each other in person would be a way of finally giving that up.”

Mike looks down at his beer gut, which was forming in 2011 but not quite in its current state, to say nothing of the thinning out of his hair since then. Rich gives him a knowing, sympathetic shrug when he looks up again.

“Eh,” Rich says. “If he’s a smug little fuckhead about his makeover, that’s just one more reason for you to finally get past him. Toughen up a little, Mike. I bet he’s the one who’s gonna be trembling in his boots. You’re a big time director now, with dozens of titles under your belt!”

“Yeah,” Mike says, bitterly. “Like American Buttholes IV.” 

Rich snickers. “Why American, I still want to ask? Never mind, don’t answer that. Say what you want about the quality of our films, we made them and they made us some fuckin’ money. And he’s out there shilling on Dix dot com for two dollar tips.” 

“Don’t,” Mike says, still defensive of Jay after all this time, apparently. “We don’t know-- He might be in trouble, Rich. He has to pay lawyers to defend him from stalkers, apparently.”

“Wait, seriously?”

“According to Gil.”

Rich groans and tosses the french fry he’d been holding back onto the pile. 

“That’s the bitch of it,” Rich says, shaking his head. “Having to depend on that little weasel for information. But, hey. If we meet up with Jay, we’ll have it straight from him, right? No middleman required.”

“Gil expects to be there, too.”

“Of course he does. But Jay hates Gil’s guts. He’s not going to sit there and let Gil lie on his behalf, trust me.”

Mike nods to himself. This rings true. And Jay’s surely enduring hatred for Gil lends some terrible credence to Gil’s story about Jay being desperate for cash, if he’s truly willing to show up to a Gil-hosted lunch with Mike and talk distribution rights. 

Rich hangs out to watch a baseball game that Mike doesn’t care about. Just having him there while Mike does as much editing work as he can is helpful, and Rich knows this. When he finally leaves it’s so he can go shopping for the dinner he’ll have with his suddenly regular girlfriend, whom Mike is really trying not to resent. It’s been a while since Mike had anything resembling a serious relationship, if his marriage to Candy even counts as such. They were mostly enablers of each other’s out of control drinking. He still misses waking up in the middle of the night and having someone there, though not enough to go out and really try to date. At his age, announcing that he’s a porn director doesn’t fly well with either men or women, unless they’re also in the industry, and Mike has tried that before, twice, with disastrous results. He’s not going down that road again, which so far seems to mean he’ll be alone forever.

“Just let me know what the plan is,” Rich says when Mike walks him to his car, trailing after him like some sad dog, avoiding the moment when he’ll be alone in his apartment again. 

“The plan?” Mike says.

“For meeting up with Jay! And Gil, I guess, ugh. How did that guy end up in marketing? He’s like the least charming person in the universe.”

“He talks a big game, that’s how. That’s all you gotta do, turns out.” Mike sighs and shoves his hands in his pockets. “Anyway. Thanks.”

“Nothing to thank me for,” Rich says, shrugging. “I’ll see you tomorrow on set.”

“Yep.”

“Don’t let this shit get you down, Mike.”

Mike nods. It’s easy for Rich to say. Rich floats through life with a buddha-like grace, and always has. When he was single, he was fine with it. Now that he’s not, he’s happy but not a lunatic about his relationship the way Mike has always been, circling his entire life around one person in a way that’s doomed to destroy them both. Mike wishes Rich could teach a class on how to be a normal person, particularly while also being in the porn industry. Mike is confident he’ll never figure it out on his own. 

The rest of Mike’s day is uneventful, and in the evening he has a third beer and makes himself a pot of rice, covers it with cheese shreds and eats at his computer, still kind of working, mostly telling himself not to go to any of Jay’s sites, not now. There’s the Dix one with the explicit content, the YouTube one with the video diaries that make Mike either grind his teeth or cry into his beer when Jay shows a rare glimmer of something real that reminds him of the Jay he used to love, and Jay’s personal site that offers a portal to both. 

Mike avoids all three, and also avoids the temptation to drink that last beer in his fridge before bed, because he knows that if he did it would be just enough to push him over the edge of giving in and watching the video of their first time yet again.

He lies awake in bed, quietly reeling over the fact that they recorded it eighteen years ago. It was an accident. That part of the legend is true. They’d been shooting a comedy movie where Jay’s character was jerking off under a blanket, the motion of his fist indicating what he was doing for comedic effect. 

Jay was embarrassed by the scene, of course. Mike promised it would be just the two of them on set when they shot it, which wasn’t rare. Rich sometimes helped them with camerawork, and so did Jack. Gil was occasionally involved with their productions, usually because he’d insinuated himself, and sometimes Mike was dating a girl or a guy who helped out on occasion. 

Mike had written this scene for Jay, and since he was in love with Jay and was beating off to thoughts of him on the regular by then, he felt it was only fair that he promise that if Jay went through with it, Mike would be the only one present while they shot it. He’d protect Jay, essentially. 

It ended up being the day Mike finally stopped protecting Jay from himself, but when Mike stood beside the camera after take three, still rolling, and told Jay: okay, now get your dick out and do a take without the blanket, he only expected Jay to flick him off and laugh.

Instead, Jay held Mike’s gaze, half smiling like it was still a joke, threw the blanket away, reached into the sleep pants he was wearing as his costume, and did exactly what Mike asked.

“Like this?” Jay had said, stroking his already half-hard and rapidly swelling dick while Mike stood there with his mouth hanging open, heart slamming, face coloring.

Mike closes his eyes and might as well be watching the goddamn video. He has every sigh and kiss and hip thrust memorized. Even if he got up and actually watched it, he wouldn’t get to see his favorite part, which happened after he finally pulled himself off of Jay and told him, holy shit, the camera was still recording.

“Seriously?” Jay said, still a little winded and red-cheeked, naked and sex-wrecked, so sweet-looking that a part of Mike forgives him for everything whenever he watches the video. 

Mike shut off the camera, ending the recording that only the two of them have ever seen.

“Seriously,” Mike said, still flushed and breathless, too. “You want me to delete it?” he asked, his hand hovering over the buttons that would have wiped the recording then and there. 

Then came the best part, at least in Mike’s view, not captured on film but alive forever in Mike’s mind and heart, the thing that changed the course of both their lives forever.

Jay didn’t smile, didn’t pull the blanket over himself, just held Mike’s gaze and said, like everything depended on it, because it did:

“Are you crazy? Don’t delete it. Keep it.”

*


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everyone's comments on the first chapter meant so much to me, thank you!! They also made me unable to hold off even waiting 3 days to post the next chapter, lol. I finished the fourth one today, in draft form, and will keep rolling on, really enjoying writing this and so glad you guys are having fun reading it so far.
> 
> Will probably post Chapter 3 on Thursday if I don't cave and post it sooner. Take care everyone, and hope you'll enjoy this one! <3
> 
> *

Two days later Mike is in the passenger seat of Rich’s old Bonneville, staring bleakly out at the beautiful spring day as they drive closer and closer to what feels like the lunch meeting that will end him. He’s not sure what will kill him first: looking Jay in the eye for the first time since being accused of ruining his life, or the feeling of Jay’s eyes on him from across the room as they approach the table, as Jay takes in the pitifully diminished middle-aged state of Mike from the comfort of his glow-up perfection. 

“I can feel you freaking out over there,” Rich says. 

“I’m not. I’m just sitting here.” 

“Mike, it’ll be fine.”

“I know it’ll be fine. I’m already fine. I’m great. This is good, you’re right. Time for closure, bring it on.”

Rich sighs but doesn’t press any further. He’s been dealing with the increasingly wrecked state of Mike’s nerves on set for the past two days. Mike has spent those days fucking up basic shit and having a short fuse with everyone he interacts with, most of his mind laser-focused on imagining all the ways this thing with Jay might immediately blow up in his face, like a dirty bomb that only needs to be grazed to blast sharp, rusty debris everywhere. 

Worse, probably, creeping into his thoughts only very late at night when he’s been unable to sleep, are the ways he’s allowed himself to imagine it going right. He’s let himself picture Gil and Rich getting into some argument while Jack acts as mediator, Jay slipping out of the restaurant in frustration, Mike following him, and the immense weight of relief and fear that might hang in the air between them if they stood together in a quiet corner of the parking lot, just the two of them, eyes locked and words unnecessary. Mike wouldn’t expect anything ridiculous like a passionate kiss out of nowhere or some kind of confession or apology from either of them. He’s been obsessing over just the idea of Jay letting Mike look all the way into him the way he used to, or at least the way Mike thought he had, back when he believed that he could see clear through to the bottom of Jay in a way that no one else ever would. 

He’s also been thinking, not for the first time, about what they would look like together in a video now. Part of the reason their old videos still have such a following is how good they looked together back then, with all their contrasts that worked like complements: Mike big and lanky, dark-haired with intense eyes, Jay small and wiry and pale all over, with his sweet eyes that were so light they almost didn’t have a color, in certain shots. Mike can’t help but picture what they'd look like together now, Jay trim and fit with his compact muscle, Mike big and burlier than ever, how Jay's smooth, flat chest would look under Mike's fat, hairy one. Clean and neat is basically Jay’s brand, and ever since Jay debuted in the webcam world Mike has done a lot of thinking about how Jay’s freshly scrubbed, structured lines would look underneath Mike's sweaty, flushed, unruly body, how it would look on camera if Mike got Jay dirty, messy, and what it would feel like to make the new Jay come apart with his legs spread wide while Mike used him hard.

Mike groans and rubs his hand over his face, somehow stupid enough to be thinking about this as they pull into the restaurant’s parking lot. It’s a trendy place downtown, not far from the lakefront, with an upscale seafood buffet as a special weekend brunch offering. Presumably, that’s what they’re having: brunch. Mike’s stomach is in knots. He can’t imagine eating, suddenly can’t imagine what he’s even doing here, how it could possibly not result in anything less than profound humiliation and regret.

“Let yourself freak out for two more minutes,” Rich says when he’s parked and turned the car off. “Or maybe just one. Then we’re going in.” 

“Rich.” 

“What, Mike.”

“Maybe we should leave. I don’t feel well.”

“You’re just nervous. Get it together, you can do this! In a couple of hours we’ll be laughing about it, I bet.”

Mike gives Rich an annoyed, doubtful look. Rich lifts one shoulder and makes a face as if to admit, yeah, they probably won’t be. 

“If you really want to go,” Rich says, “I’m not gonna make you do this. I just think you’ll feel worse if you don’t face him. If I didn’t really believe that, I would have told you to tell Gil to fuck off.” 

“Do you think Jay is there already?” Mike asks, staring at the restaurant’s front door as a family with two young kids walks inside. “Or is he fashionably late to things now?”

Jay used to be obsessively punctual, and had no patience for people who wasted his time.

“I don’t know him anymore,” Mike says when Rich doesn’t answer, the words almost sticking in his chest.

“Yeah,” Rich says, sighing. “What happened sucks. Maybe this will help you heal from it a little. Maybe not, but it can’t get worse, right?”

Mike cuts Rich a look like, are you kidding me?

Rich rolls his eyes. “You’re not even in each other’s lives at all anymore, so if this goes poorly, that just remains the case. Nothing to lose but the way you’ve let this haunt you. C’mon, are you ready? Let’s just find out what’s gonna happen in there, either way. The waiting and not knowing is what’s making you feel ill.” 

Mike gets out of the car, and he feels like he’s having an out of body experience by the time they’ve reached the restaurant’s front door. He trails after Rich, wanting to hide behind him. Width-wise it would be possible, but Mike is taller. He’s scanning the restaurant from over Rich’s head as they walk inside, feeling like he’s being squeezed up between the walls of a trash compactor as he maneuvers through tables, seeking out a perfect head of blond hair, a pair of searching green eyes, and the pointy nose and gold eyelashes he used to kiss when Jay was sleeping, also when he was awake, whenever Jay would let him. 

“Rich!” Jack says, jumping up to block Mike’s view of Jay when they reach their table. Jay is sitting in the interior of the large booth, against the wall, motionless while Jack gives Rich an exuberant hug. Mike stares at the floor, then lets Jack hug him, too. “So glad you guys came!” Jack says, pulling free to slap Mike on the shoulder. “And, look!” He steps back and gestures at Jay, who is staring up at Mike like cornered prey, coiffed to perfection but bright red across his cheeks. “Jay is here!” Jack says, needless and loud. 

“Gil is late,” Jay says, not getting up, his shoulders tense and hands gripping the edge of the table like he might need to fling himself over it and run. 

“Of course he is,” Mike says, and, just like that, they’ve spoken to each other for the first time in nine years. 

Rich mercifully gets into the other side of the booth first, so Mike won’t have to sit directly across from Jay. Mike can feel his hands shaking when he sits, and he’s glad he can keep them out of sight, under the table. He dares a glance at Jay and sees him looking down at his phone, frowning slightly and still red-faced. Hilariously, also horribly, Jay and Mike are wearing the same outfit, both of them in a black t-shirt and jeans. Jay’s t-shirt is fitted and tight, and while Mike’s might be described as the same, the effect is different on him. He feels surprisingly okay with himself, however, because he can see Jay is panicked. Mike both enjoys this, as Jay’s nemesis, and wants to comfort him, as his-- Whatever. Former soulmate.

“I texted Gil,” Jay says, putting the phone done. “He says he got tied up in a meeting but he’s on his way.”

“What meeting could possibly be more important than this one?” Jack asks, maybe joking, maybe not. He’s grinning, anyway, looking back and forth between Rich and Mike like he’s truly glad to see them. Jay looks less so, mostly scared. 

Mike’s heart aches with growing, unfair sympathy for Jay, and he wants to stomp it like the last embers of a campfire that might burn down the whole goddamn forest preserve if they’re not extinguished.

“Jesus,” Rich says, staring at Jay in a way that Mike won’t allow himself to. “You look so different, man.” 

“Thanks,” Jay says, frowning a little. “I, uh. I fixed my teeth.” 

As if that’s the only thing he did. Mike gulps from the glass of water that’s been set out for him, annoyance rising up to meet his grudging sympathy. 

“Oh, is this Rich seeing Jay’s new look for the first time?” Jack says. “I take it you don’t watch his channels, Rich?”

Rich snickers and Jack laughs. Jay stares down at his phone like it’s going to save him. Mike stares at Jay, finally, letting himself take it all in: the biceps, suntan, immaculately groomed beard, and what might be subtle gold highlights in his hair. That, or Mike just forgot how pretty Jay’s hair is, live and in person. He wants to reach over and touch it, just for science, to see if it’s still as soft as he remembers, because whatever product Jay uses to style it now makes it look shiny and hard. 

“No, really,” Rich says when Jay looks up at him again. “You look great. How’ve you been? You still live in the city?”

“Yeah,” Jay says. He glances at Mike. “Your studio is still in the same place?”

Mike notes Jay didn’t ask where he lives, just went straight to talking about business. 

“Still there,” Mike says. 

“That’s great,” Jack says, and Mike is glad he’s here. Jack has a way of defusing tension with his total lack of pretentiousness and full willingness to be the awkward one when everyone else goes intense and quiet. “Really great, uh. You guys working on anything big?”

“Locker room gangbang,” Mike says, and of course the waitress appears just in time to hear this. Mike catches Jay’s gaze across the table and sees a tiny flicker of amusement in his eyes. Not sure if it’s at his expense or not, Mike looks away.

“Locker room gangbang,” Jack says, nodding his approval when the waitress has departed with their drink orders. “Classic.” 

“You’re doing mostly mundane stuff now, huh?” Mike says. 

“Yeah, them’s the breaks,” Jack says. “Sometimes I miss the wild world of porn, but, you know, there’s less drugs and drama in corporate video production. Super boring, though.”

Silence falls over the table, and Mike wonders if Jay is going to talk about his own current work. It would seem not, since he’s consulting his phone and avoiding everyone’s eyes.

“So how crazy was it to hear from Gil after all this time?” Jack asks, rescuing Jay, or maybe all of them. “That little fucker hasn’t changed, huh?”

“Same old shithead,” Mike says. “Fucking can’t believe he’s late.”

“I can,” Jay says.

Mike has to bite away an inappropriate, irrational grin. He’s overcome by how it feels just like it used to, being contradicted by Jay’s bitchy little corrections. It’s still not Mike’s favorite feeling, but god it’s been so long. He’s missed it, somehow. 

“Yeah, this is classic Gil,” Rich says. “Does anybody know exactly what he wants, by the way? Because I’m a little concerned that this is about him taking ten percent off the top of the distribution rights, or something else ballsy like that.” 

“I have the same concern, Rich,” Jack says. “Let’s all make a pact right now to not let Gil get into slippery wheeler-dealer mode and bamboozle us with his bullshit.”

“But that’s what this is all about,” Jay says, sharply. “Gil trying to-- Broker something.” He glances at Mike, then quickly looks away, at Rich. “Right?”

“Seems that way,” Mike says. “Look, before he gets here, let’s just--”

“Oh my goddddd!” 

It’s Gil, having arrived with his usual terrible timing, wearing sunglasses indoors and talking loud enough to have attracted the attention of everyone in the restaurant after that outburst. He’s standing maybe five feet from the table, arms outstretched, beaming. 

“What a sight!” he says, still bellowing. “The old gang, back together at last!”

“Gilbert,” Jack says, standing and offering his hand.

“What’s this shit!” Gil says, still maximum-shrill. He smacks Jack’s hand away and hugs him like they’re long lost friends. Gil is significantly shorter than Jack, and the effect is comical, especially as Gil is still wearing his sunglasses and Jack’s responding hug is polite at best. Gil is also wearing a leather jacket, though it’s a warm day, and jeans with strategic rips here and there. His shoes look annoyingly expensive. 

“Why are you wearing sunglasses indoors?” Mike asks, rearing away when Gil attempts to hug him. Gil manages to get an arm around Mike’s back and laughs obnoxiously in his ear before Mike shoulders him away. “Are you coming from the eye doctor?” Mike asks, scowling up at Gil’s persisting grin. 

“Oh, shit!” Gil rips the sunglasses off, exposing his crazy person eyes, which are the same ones Mike remembers wanting to put a fist between many a time. “Shit, I didn’t even realize! I’m just so excited! I gotta take a picture.” 

“Sit the fuck down,” Mike says, pointing to the chair at the end of the table. He should have taken it himself, because now Gil is positioned in a place of authority, but it’s too late now.

“Is this guy unchanged or what?” Gil asks, falling into the chair and grabbing for Mike’s arm. “Oh my god, Jay. Look at you, look at mister golden boy over there! And Rich! Holy shit, man! How are you?”

“Fine,” Rich says, so dryly that Mike has to hold in a snort of laughter. “Good to see you, Gil,” he adds, unconvincingly. “How about you tell us all what we’re doing here, exactly?”

“Right down to business!” Gil laughs and tosses his sunglasses on the table, pushing his wild hair off his forehead with his other hand. Cruelly, his hair is still thick, with no signs of a receding hairline. Between the five of them, only Gil and Jay have been so lucky. “Tell me we’re drinking,” Gil says, clapping his hands together. “Beers, at least?”

“No,” Jay says. “We already ordered drinks. Nobody asked for booze. This is a business meeting, so don’t-- Just don’t, Gil.”

Gil snickers at this, drumming his hands on the table. Mike wonders if he’s a coke addict now, though on second thought Gil was always just-- Like this.

“Oh, fine, fine,” Gil says. “But if I order a bottle of wine to celebrate, I bet this guy will have some, eh?” He grabs Mike’s bicep again and squeezes when Mike tries to wriggle free.

“Will you stop touching me?” Mike says, glad that Jay is sheltered back there in the corner, blocked from Gil’s grabby hands by Jack. “Jesus, answer the question. You want to help us distribute the old videos, right? What’s the plan?”

“The plan!” Gil says, throwing his head back and lifting his hands toward the ceiling like he’s about to deliver his sales pitch sermon. He claps his hands together and smirks at Mike, Rich, Jay and Jack in turn. “Gentlemen,” he says, “The opportunity I’m about to put at your feet is mind-blowing. Brace yourselves.” 

“We’re braced,” Rich says. “What is it.”

The waitress returns with their drinks then, so Gil just goes on smirking, then orders a bottle of champagne. 

“How many glasses should I bring with the bottle?” the waitress asks. 

“One,” Jay says.

“Naw, make it four,” Gil says, waving his hand in Jay’s direction. “These guys might change their minds about celebrating real soon, and-- Rich, you still teetotal over there?”

“Yes, Gil,” Rich says, and Mike can hear that he’s losing his patience.

Mike feels surprisingly light, meanwhile, his stomach-clenching anxiety eased up and his curiosity genuinely piqued. He gives Gil a hard time by default, but he wouldn’t mind a glass of champagne, and just being able to sneak looks at Jay is lifting his spirits. They’re not clawing each other’s eyes out or screaming at each other, not even stammering awkwardly with nothing to say. This is going okay, Jay-wise, and, if Mike is honest with himself, the rest is just icing on the cake. He came here to see Jay, and there he is, for real, finally, looking at Gil with adorable irritation. 

Not that Mike should be applying the word adorable to his ex, even in his own mind. He makes himself refocus on Gil’s shit-eating grin. 

“I’ve been talking to Jane Dorsey at Under the Lake,” Gil says. “Turns out she’s a huge, huge MikeNJay Cinema fan.”

Jay groans, and Mike’s contentment falters a little. 

“Who’s Jane Dorsey?” Mike asks, ignoring Jay’s needless expression of dislike for the work they did together.

“Who’s Jane Dorsey?” Gil asks, his voice almost breaking with put-on disbelief. “Are you serious? Mike, are you in the industry or aren’t you?”

“I’m very locally-minded when it comes to my contacts,” Mike says. “People in L.A. don’t know who the fuck I am, so why should I know them?”

“Ah, but that’s where you’re wrong, my friend! Do you not know the legendary love for you two that still exists in the larger industry? For the old videos, the rareness of them, the fucking authenticity? How many people have tried to replicate it? How profoundly they’ve failed? Guess what, bitches? It’s time for the motherfuckin’ chickens to come home to roost! It’s time for the MikeNJay Cinema revival!”

“Uh,” Jay says. “No, it’s not.” 

“Hear him out,” Jack says, waving his hand in Jay’s direction. “We’re talking remastering and releasing the videos on DVD, or streaming, or what?”

“Oh, that’s just step one-- Ah!” Gil says, turning his crazed grin on the waitress when she arrives with his chilled champagne in a bucket and four glasses. “Perfect timing, my dear!”

Gil asks her to pour four glasses. Jack sips from his, so Mike does the same. Jay just sits there glowering at Gil, refusing to even look at the glass of champagne that’s been placed in front of him. 

“So here’s the deal,” Gil says when the waitress has left with their food orders. “Step one-- You guys remaster the old videos, absolutely. I’m here to tell you it’s fucking funded, and the distribution paperwork is being drawn up for your approval as I speak.”

“Wait,” Mike says. “Wait a minute--” 

“For your review and approval, Mike! Obviously, nothing goes forward without full cooperation and input from the both of you. I just thought, what’s the harm in getting the fine print down for you to lay eyes on? Makes the whole thing feel more real, yeah?”

“Feels a little rushed,” Rich says. “What’s the hurry?”

“Well, Rich, I’m so glad you asked. As I mentioned, releasing the old stuff on the Under the Lake label is just step one. I know you two are hoarding unreleased stuff you made back then, too. Guess who wants to buy it? Miss Jane Dorsey, who, for your information, Mike, is the director of content development for all of Under the Lake.” 

“What kind of money are we talking about?” Jay asks. 

Mike snorts, surprised Jay is willing to show his hand and be so forward. Jay cuts Mike a look that goes straight through him, because it feels exactly how it did back when they shared an unspoken language as a couple who could communicate without words: like a warning to tread carefully, a silent command that Mike still finds himself wanting to obey.

“An excellent question, Jay,” Gil says. He grins and looks at everyone one at a time again, holding his bubbling champagne flute, dramatic as ever. “This is a half million dollar deal, boys. Upfront.” 

“Million-- What?” Mike stammers. “For-- Who, how?”

“The majority would be split between the two of you, of course, and my fee as the project manager could be negotiated, but considering I’ve also got a finder’s fee due for setting all this up, I was thinking fifteen percent--”

“Hang on,” Jay says, frowning like this is bad news somehow. “They want all the content for a half million dollars? And we get nothing in sales? That sounds--” He glances at Mike. “Bad, right? Low?”

“Yes,” Mike says, though he’s not exactly sure. They are negotiating, after all. “You’re not cutting us out of the sales revenue entirely. Even if they only give us a scrap--”

“I was getting to that, Mike! You’d get a sales cut, of course! You’re selling the distribution rights, primarily. And-- Listen, um. I want you to listen carefully before you react. The half million is really more about the new content. Because this is all part of a package, you see. And the package part of the deal is not optional, because Under the Lake wants to use the old material to promote the real moneymaker, for them and for you. That element will be part of the marketing leadup to the reunion event of the century. You two, together again. The return of Mike ‘n Jay.” 

Nobody says anything or moves for a moment. Jay reaches for his glass of champagne and gulps from it, finishing it in four swallows. 

“You’re-- What?” Mike says, his throat feeling too tight to allow him to guzzle his champagne in a similar fashion, though he wants to. “What do you mean, together?” 

“They don’t want the old stuff unless we make something new?” Jay says, looking dazed. “Is that what you just said?”

“That’s exactly what I said,” Gil says. “But guys-- This is good news! They want Jay to star, of course, he’s got his fanbase built in even outside of the old videos, and Mike-- I told them you’d have to direct, that’s absolutely a condition--”

“Direct _what_?” Mike asks, barking this so loudly that several people at nearby tables turn to stare. “Jay getting-- Jay--” Mike hears himself stammering and dares a glance at Jay. He’s staring at the center of the table, looking queasy.

“The idea is a sixty-minute feature,” Gil says. “You two would write it-- Together, necessarily, because that’s part of the draw, you know, the gimmick, your big reunion. And, ah, yes, Jay would star, Mike would direct, and the thing is, also, Mike, I know it’s been a while, but-- They’d expect at least three scenes with the two of you. That would be in the contract, non-negotiable.” 

“Is this for real?” Jay snaps. “Or are you just fucking with us?” 

“Jay--” 

“I want to meet with this Dorsey person myself, if I--” Jay glances at Mike, the pink on his cheeks brightening. “If we-- If Mike is remotely interested.”

“You’re remotely interested?” Mike says, leaning over the table to boggle at him. 

Jay shrugs one shoulder and tries to look as cool as possible with his face burning.

“I need the money,” he says.

Mike’s heart does a sinking-ballooning thing, a painful combination that only Jay has ever been responsible for. Jay has never had a chip on his shoulder or any egotistical fragility about his financial problems. He doesn’t love discussing it, though, normally, or anyway he used to avoid the subject. It hurts to see him like this, laying everything out while Gil dangles coins in front of his face.

“It’s fine if you don’t want to do this,” Jay says, frowning at the broken-open look on Mike’s face. “I’m-- It’s not like I’m broke. It’s just hard for me to walk away from a quarter of a million dollars and a take of the sales, and-- It’s always bothered me, people passing our old shit around for free, me and you getting nothing. Jesus, like. We gave a decade of our lives to those fucking videos.” 

Hearing Jay call the work they did together ‘old shit’ and ‘those fucking videos’ hurts more than Mike had even expected, but he feels himself nodding, staring into Jay’s eyes, mildly hypnotized. What is happening? They’re being honest and upfront and also making this entirely about money? But of course it’s about money, Mike thinks, looking down at his glass of champagne and watching the bubbles rise to the surface. The fuck else would it be about, after all this time?

“Wow,” Gil says. “I actually thought you guys would tell me to fuck off at least a few times before I got you to consider this seriously, but-- Who am I kidding? It feels right, doesn’t it? Like the stars have aligned!” 

“I wouldn’t go that far,” Jay mutters. “Is there more to drink? Pass me the bottle.”

“Take mine,” Mike says, shoving his nearly full champagne glass toward Jay, mostly to see if he’ll deign to drink from something that has touched Mike’s lips. “You realize what he’s saying, yeah?” Mike says, boring his gaze into Jay’s. “He just said there’s no deal if we don’t fuck on camera.” Mike cuts his eyes to Gil, unable to keep looking at Jay after saying so, his heartbeat thundering between his ears. “Yeah?” he snaps, wanting to slap the pleased look off of Gil’s face. “Is that what you’re telling us?”

“That’s what I’m telling you,” Gil says, nodding. “And I’m begging you not to consider that a dealbreaker, Mike.” 

“Like I’m the one who--!” Mike boggles at Gil, then at Jay. “How’s that not a dealbreaker for you?” he asks.

Jay snorts and shakes his head. He’s playing with the stem of Mike’s champagne glass, twisting it between his fingers, but hasn’t taken a sip yet.

“It’s just work,” Jay says. “I’ve fucked people for money before. As you know.” 

Mike’s mouth hangs open stupidly around all the excuses he wants to make about why that was different, because Mike wasn’t paying Jay a goddamn fee, because involving Lance was Jay’s idea, and god if that means Jay is fucking his most premium webcam subscribers for cash, Mike will keel over and die at the table, rendering all of this negotiation moot. But Jay said ‘as you know,’ so he must be talking about, well-- Mike, mostly. How their relationship turned into something they were both selling. 

“This is a lot to think about,” Rich says, breaking the uncomfortable silence that Gil seems to be basking in victoriously. “When can we see this paperwork, and when do you need a decision?”

“That’s the tricky part, Richie Rich.”

“I’ve asked you not to call me that.”

“Ah, yes, sorry, it’s been like seven years, forgive me, I forgot. Anyway, here’s the thing. Under the Lake wants to release this feature by the end of the year, for the holiday season push. So we’d really need a commitment from you guys pretty much, uhh, right away, or as soon as you can have your lawyers review the fine print. Because this time frame for the release means production needs to start this summer.”

“This summer is less than two months away,” Mike says, not sure why this information is making him more excited than filled with dread. Maybe it’s the sight of Jay drinking from his champagne glass, swallowing down what Mike didn’t finish.

“That’s right!” Gil says, slapping the table. “But you two are nothing if not efficient, speedy producers of high quality content, and I have great news about that, too-- If it’s helpful, if you like, I can fly you both out to L.A., first class, and loan you my girlfriend’s amazing house in the Hills as a writing retreat while you work on the script!”

“You have a girlfriend?” Mike says.

Gil howls with laughter and claps a few times.

“Mike,” he says, pressing his palms together and holding his hands over in Mike’s direction, not quite in his face. “Never change, buddy. You’re hilarious.” 

“I’m not going to L.A.,” Jay says. “We can write the thing here, if-- Are we doing this?” he asks, snapping this at Mike like he expects to be disappointed or abandoned or-- What? Rejected?

“Can I talk to you?” Mike says to Jay, riding the surge of courage that’s building in his chest before it can deplete. “Alone, for a minute?”

“Ooh, that’s a great idea!” Gil says, practically squirming in his seat. “Why don’t you guys take a lap together while we wait for the entrees? It’s a lovely day, and there’s lots to consider--” 

“I’m on board,” Jay says, shrugging. “I don’t need to talk. I do need to see the paperwork. I have, uh. A lawyer who’s gonna look at it for me.” 

“You have a lawyer?” Mike says, in the same tone he used to ask Gil with disbelief about his alleged girlfriend. Women never liked Gil, and Jay having a lawyer seems just as grotesque, somehow. 

“It’s Josh,” Jack says, and he makes an apologetic face when Jay cuts him a look. “Right? Oh, sorry. Was that a secret?”

“It’s not a secret,” Jay says. “Forget it, just-- Pending the legal details, I’m in.”

“You’re refusing to come speak to me privately?” Mike says, and here it comes, now he feels it. He wants to fight, the old rage peeking out sleepily from the deep place where he buried it, quiet and slow-moving but massive. 

“I’m hungry,” Jay says, his upper lip twitching in the way Mike used to love. Now Jay’s perfectly trimmed mustache mostly hides it. “I want to eat. Maybe we’ll talk later. I’d like to look at this paperwork with my lawyer first.” 

“Wow,” Mike says, wishing he had a better comeback. 

“What?” Jay snaps. 

“Nothing, just. Josh is your lawyer now? What the fuck?”

“You knew he was in law school--” 

“Yeah, yeah-- You know what, forget it, Jay. Obviously, sure, it’s all down to the legal and financial details. Of course! There’s nothing else complicated or noteworthy about this situation. Nope! Just business, sure! Should be simple!”

“It is simple enough,” Jay says, full-on snarling now. “We do the thing and we get a regular income from the distribution of the old videos, if nothing else. Under the Lake is huge, they could really shut down all the illegal sharing and move our stuff to platforms that would put money in our pockets with every view, finally. Plus a quarter million upfront to sign on and make whatever the fuck they want us to? Are you kidding me? That kind of money would clear all my debts, Mike. It would solve virtually every problem we’re having in my sister’s fucked up custody battle with her ex. It would give my mom a hope in hell of being able to retire from the shitty retail job that’s killing her.”

Jay stops there and looks away, licking his lips. He doesn’t mention that it would, presumably, also allow him to stop stripping for tips on a webcam channel. 

“I get it--” Mike starts to say, and he groans under his breath when he’s interrupted by the arrival of their lunch plates.

He supposes it’s for the best. He doesn’t want to have the rest of this conversation in front of the others, anyway. He stares down at the fish and chips he ordered, not sure what he was thinking. His stomach is pinched tight again, and he wishes he hadn’t given Jay his drink.

Gil does most of the talking while everyone eats, name dropping and bragging about various L.A. things. Jay seems to be struggling to get anything down, same as Mike, but the other three are gobbling away like everything’s fine. Mike wants to stand up on the table and scream, feels like he’s taking crazy pills. They’re all just sitting here having a meal together while this thing hangs in the air over the table, the suggestion that Mike and Jay are going to fuck on camera again? How is this possible? What is going on? 

Mike sneaks looks at Jay while the others chatter about whatever inane thing Gil is saying. Jay has a salad with grilled shrimp. He’s eating pieces of lettuce intermittently while staring into space and mostly just pushing the shrimp around. When he finally looks up and sees Mike staring at him, he flinches a little but doesn’t look away.

What the fuck? Mike thinks again, pushing the question into Jay’s mind. He’s not sure this is still an effective communication technique, but Jay’s eyebrows arch and pull together like he gets the message clear enough and like his answer is: I have no fucking clue, I’m also lost. 

Mike wants to throw the table aside and grab Jay, drag him outside and make him be real about this, about anything. But maybe Jay is right to refuse that just now, when things are fragile and perhaps necessarily surreal. Maybe they’re not ready for that yet. 

“Gents, I’m afraid I’ve got to get started on the drive back to Chicago,” Gil says when he’s finished his champagne. He pulls out his wallet and throws a couple of hundred dollar bills onto the table. “That should cover it, yeah? And before you act impressed, I’m expensing this meal, ha! I’m gonna be the hottest shit at Under the Lake when they hear I’ve signed you two for the blockbuster event of the year.”

“But you haven’t signed them,” Rich says. “They haven’t even seen the documentation yet.”

“Ah, Rich, always the pragmatist! Of course I’m only assuming you’ll both sign after you’ve had the lawyers do their thing, and I’ll get that paperwork emailed over tonight. How’s that sound?” 

Gil gives Rich a look that Mike doesn’t like, though he’s still smiling and Rich is unperturbed as ever, staring back at him blandly.

“Works for me,” Jay says, pushing his mostly untouched lunch away. 

“Sure,” Mike says when Gil turns to beam at him. “Details pending.” 

“I think you two will be more than happy with the contractual package as I’ve heard it outlined,” Gil says, standing. He grabs his sunglasses and throws his napkin on the table, then holds out his arms as if to spiritually hug everyone at the table goodbye. “Guys, seriously. This is the beginning of something beautiful. Something special. I can feel it.”

He winks and turns to go. Mike feels like shouting after him, though he’s not sure which accusations he’d liked to hurl, exactly. He feels manipulated, like he just did exactly what they made a flimsy pact not to before Gil arrived, though they haven’t actually signed anything yet.

When Mike meets Jay’s eyes again, he knows he’ll sign whatever Gil sends him, barring a truly dark clause in this yet to be reviewed contract. Because it’s what Jay wants, or at least what he needs. And Mike’s whole body is aching to give him everything, still. 

“We should get going, too,” Jay says, elbowing Jack, as if he needs to escape the intense look Mike is giving him immediately. “I’ve got to record something tonight, and I’m gonna stop by my sister’s place--”

“I didn’t know she got divorced,” Mike says, though he did, because he stalks Jay’s family on Facebook. In a friendly way, he likes to think. They all liked him, until they found out that he’d ‘dragged’ Jay into porn, in their view. Mike never told them that Jay was the one who threw that blanket aside and took his dick out during their shoot, the one who told Mike not to delete their first time video, and the one who wanted to start selling the videos they'd once told each other they were only making for ‘fun,’ both knowing they wanted something more from it, something special that would be too good to not share with the wider world. 

Jay is shoving Jack out of the booth, scooting over against him, antsy to leave. He glances at Mike, looking-- What? Sad? Harried, assaulted by Mike’s attention? Mike can’t tell anymore. He just knows he resents Jay for leaving and knows he’s going to miss the fuck out of him as soon as he’s out of sight, and that he’s screwed, completely. 

“I’ll be in touch,” Jay says. “After Josh checks out the contract, um.” He stands from the booth and touches his hips, looks at the floor, then up at Mike. “Thank you,” he says, grinding the words out like they’re paining him.

Mike’s eyebrows go up. “For what?”

“For considering this, for-- I know you don’t have the same financial problems that I, uh. Just. I didn’t think you’d even take this lunch meeting, so.”

“I didn’t think you would,” Mike says, eyes widening. “Like. You--”

He stops there. You’re the one who ended it is not polite conversation, in mixed company, at brunch. 

And he’s not even sure that’s true anymore, though it certainly felt that way at the time. 

“Mike, lovely to see you,” Jack says when Jay just stands there looking dejected and kind of angry. “Rich, I’m gonna take you up on that ball game!”

“Yeah, hey,” Rich says, waving. “See you soon. Both of you, I guess.”

“I guess,” Jay mumbles, and then he’s walking away without looking at Mike again.

Jack mouths ‘he’s fine’ and then turns to follow. Mike and Rich are left with Gil’s money sitting on the table amid the empty champagne glasses.

“What the fuck just happened,” Mike says, glad to finally vocalize it. 

“Dunno,” Rich says, squinting in the direction of the front door as Jack and Jay depart. “I don’t think it’s all bad, though, or worrisome. Despite Gil’s involvement.” 

“Yeah.” Mike turns, but Jay has already left the restaurant, disappearing into the glare of bright afternoon sunlight that’s reflected off the cars in the lot outside and blurred across the place’s front windows. 

“Real curious to see this contract,” Rich says. “Though I ain’t no lawyer. I guess you’ll have Jocelyn look it over?”

“Texting her now,” Mike says, busying himself with his phone and these gritty details, to distract himself from the awful, sinking feeling of Jay having just been here, for real, finally, and now already gone. He can’t even begin to think about the emotional torture of fucking him on camera in a feature production that’s funded by a major studio-- No, just. Can’t deal with that yet. 

Jocelyn replies that she’ll give the project priority as soon as Mike forwards the paperwork. She used to be in dirty movies, too, later went to law school and now specializes in repping industry talent and independent production companies like Mike’s. Josh, who is apparently Jay’s lawyer now, is a friend from the satellite group of random Milwaukee creative types they used to hang out with both before and after they went from making bad movies to making good porn. Josh was one of the few who didn’t think they were out of their minds and didn’t start acting weird around after the secret about their videos was out. He was always cool with it. Now he’s a fucking lawyer? Sure, why not. It’s not like anything else makes sense at present.

Mike’s head is spinning when they’re driving back to the studio, where they unfortunately have to do pick-ups. He can’t imagine working right now, wants to get shit-faced and obsess over Jay’s channels, but he’s not a child and he can hold it together till quitting time and the cocktail hour, hopefully.

“If this contract review pans out,” Rich says when they’re nearly at the studio and Mike has barely said a word, slumped in the passenger seat and trying not to think about Jay’s eyes, how he’d looked like a caged animal at times and like a snake ready to strike Mike from across the table at others, “Will you really be able to go through with this?” Rich asks. “Like, with, uh. A scene, with him?”

“I can’t think about that yet, Rich. Jesus, there’s so much to do, if we end up doing this. Remastering the old videos alone. Writing a fucking script-- Co-writing with Jay again?” Mike snorts, thinking again of their last fight, which until today was the last time they’d seen each other. “That’ll be, uh. Interesting enough. Let me cross that bridge first, if we’re even going to cross any of them.”

Mike is mentally useless for the rest of the day, but he’s able to go through the motions at the studio and get the pick-ups in the can. Rich drops him off at home, and Mike walks toward his building until Rich is gone, then doubles back and walks to the liquor store, buys a bottle of tequila and a six pack of beer and settles in for a night of feeling sorry for himself. He figures he’s earned it. There’s no way he’s doing the night sober or avoiding the temptation to click on all of Jay’s sites before giving in and watching his personal copies of some of their old videos.

He tells himself this isn’t just his usual feeling sorry for himself routine, because now it’s his responsibility to not only look at the old videos and take notes relating to the remaster, but also to research his potential co-star for this hypothetical new feature. 

As if he hasn’t spent the past six years ‘researching’ Jay’s online presence. But never mind. Now he has an excuse.

He gets the email from Gil with the paperwork while he’s still relatively sober, taking it slow with a shallow glass of tequila to start the evening. He forwards the email to Jocelyn and asks her to meet with him tomorrow afternoon to go over everything at her office. Feeling like this counts for being adult-minded and responsible enough for one evening, he then orders some enchiladas to be delivered for dinner and brings up the first video in the Sid and Dex series after checking Jay’s channels and finding no new posts or streams advertised.

The first video they ever sold seems like a good place to start. It’s also the first one they made that involved characters, costumes, and dialogue that was at least partially scripted, scenes that were carefully blocked. Mike still remembers the thrill of it vividly. They shot it during the day, outdoors, near a chain link fence on an abandoned property owned by Mike’s uncle, who had not given them permission to shoot anything there, let alone porn. The backdrop was nondescript enough, and Mike was fairly confident that his uncle wouldn’t sue him, on the off chance he ever found out. So far that’s proven true. 

Jay had dyed Mike’s hair green the night before. They fucked in their bed afterward, breaking into nervous laughter at moments, as if they were already on camera. In the morning, on the way to the shoot with their equipment in the backseat of Mike’s shitty car, they were both quiet. They were anxious about trying this but also serious about it in a way that didn’t hit them until they were setting up their first shot, giving and taking instructions the way they always had. Mike took charge as usual, and Jay interrupted with suggestions only when he needed to. They worked so well together, and it was a comfort to find they could bring that energy to this project, same as all the others. They were both getting hard in their pants with anticipation, which was something of an issue, because Jay’s character was supposed to be soft when he took his dick out.

“Do something that’ll turn me off,” Jay said when they stood there debating how to handle this.

Mike slapped him in the face, just hard enough to annoy him. He grinned at Jay’s answering look of fury.

“What?” Mike said, backing away with his hands up when Jay tried to hit him. “We’re supposed to be fighting!” 

The short began with Sid picking on Dex, establishing that this was a regular thing, and then Dex insulting Sid, causing Sid to chase him and threaten to kick his ass. They end up pressed against the tall chain link fence, Dex with his back to it and Sid cornering him there with his bigger body. In the midst of his usual threats, Sid tells Dex to take his dick out and jerk off, to humiliate him, also because his character is secretly in love with Dex.

Mike will never forget the first time they watched this together. His eyes well up and he gulps down the last of the tequila in his glass, groping for the bottle to pour more. The scene where Dex takes his dick out and breathes harshly while Sid looms over him, his hands caged around Dex on the chain link fence while he watches, making him touch himself-- It’s why they’re mildly famous, Mike thinks. Jay is so fucking perfect in this scene, looking terrified and vulnerable and turned on, too, timid and daring at the same time, chewing his lip and giving Mike’s character sad little glances like he’s checking to make sure he’s doing a good job for him and begging for something that he doesn’t know how to voice, not sure if he wants to run or if he wants Sid to touch him. Mike is still floored by how well Jay conveys all of this without speaking, just in his panted breath and sweet, submissive expressions. When Mike watched this with Jay at his side after the shoot, back at their apartment, his mouth hung open and his heart slammed in his chest. His dick also got hard.

“Jesus,” Jay had said, red-faced and laughing when Mike looked over at him in awe. “You only think it’s great because you-- You know.”

“Because I what?” Mike said, shaking his head.

“Love me,” Jay mumbled, turning his bright red face back toward the screen. 

Mike had tackled him, kissing him until he laughed and told Mike to stop, to watch the footage that was still playing, and that he was being stupid, though Mike knew Jay could feel it, too. This was different from their usual shit, and not just because they had their dicks out. This was the special thing they were meant to do together. That was how it felt, already. 

The scene progresses, and Mike keeps watching, though he’s risking being hard when the delivery guy arrives. Sid taunts Dex while he touches himself, asking him if he’s going to come, if he likes this, likes letting someone watch. Dex makes noncommittal little noises in response, wrinkling his nose and whimpering when he gets close. When he comes he throws his head back, breaking perfectly, showing the crooked teeth that Mike fucking loved. He’s glad Jay got them fixed, because he’d always hated them and it must be a relief for him to laugh without needing to cover his mouth compulsively, but Mike is selfishly glad they live on in these videos. Jay was so fucking cute, especially after he’d just come, his face all flushed and eyes dopey as he gazed up at Mike, waiting for his next direction. 

Mike drags his hand over his face and tries to hold it together, at least until his dinner arrives. He finishes his tequila and switches to beer while the video plays on. When he returns to the computer Dex is on his knees, Sid telling him that watching him jerk off got him hard, and since it’s Dex’s fault, he has to pull Sid’s big cock out and suck it, it’s only fair. 

These characters were so real to them that Mike sometimes felt like he’d traveled to another dimension where they really were these people when they shot these videos or practiced scenes alone together. They both had elaborate backstories that they would murmur to each other about in the dark at night, in bed together. Mike feels the hole Jay punched in his heart reopening, but he doesn’t stop the video or even attempt to stop wallowing. He needs this, in some perverse way. He’s got to face this feeling if he has any hope of moving forward and actually working with Jay again, jesus.

In the video, Dex swallows Sid’s come and is hard again after he has. Sid taunts him for this, grinning, breathless, triumphant. Mike wasn’t as good looking as he eventually got in these earliest videos, still a little scrawny, and the green hair doesn’t really do his complexion any favors, but he was already pretty handsome and he can’t help admiring his younger self, too, as he drags his spit slick, softening dick across Jay’s upturned face. Now the only thing porn star-level hot about him is his huge dick, though he supposes there is a market for fat, hairy guys, especially if they’re fucking trim little blond guys like Jay.

Mike checks on his delivery status and sees the tracker thing has the driver still at the restaurant. So he’s got at least ten minutes, which is the duration of the rest of the video. Sighing, he pulls his cock out, fully hard as he watches himself lower to his knees on screen. He fixates on the shocked face that Jay makes as Dex, who’s unable to believe that big bad Sid is dropping down onto all fours to suck his cock like he’s been starving for it. 

“Oh,” Dex says, soft and high-pitched, astonished, Jay’s eyes slipping shut behind the crooked prop glasses he always wore as this character.

Sid moans around Dex’s cock and Dex’s head tips back against the fence, his throat bobbing when he swallows the excess spit in his mouth. Mike’s hand moves faster on his cock. He remembers what it felt like-- Kneeling in the dirt while he sucked Jay off, the camera recording all of it, pushed in on a tight shot until Mike got up and adjusted the zoom, alternating between wide and tight shots as Jay stayed slumped there waiting, his legs spread and his wet dick poking out from his underwear and pulled open jeans, looking fucking wrecked. It was the wildest thing they’d ever done and Mike knew already, kneeling back down and stealing a kiss from Jay before getting back to the actual scene, that they were going to be addicted to it from then on.

“You good?” Mike asked, on all fours, panting his breath and getting hard again. 

“So good,” Jay breathed out, nodding, looking hypnotized.

That part isn’t in the video, of course. What happens next is Dex comes in Sid’s mouth with a pained little whine, wincing because it’s so close on the heels of his last orgasm. Sid swallows it down, gives Dex a dirty, biting kiss on his puffy pink lips, and tells him so long, the shot lingering on Dex as he remains slumped back against the fence with his softening cock hanging out, staring up at Sid with worshipful, questioning, sex-blown eyes as Sid zips himself up and walks away. 

The last two shots are of Sid walking away, from Dex’s perspective, then back to Dex as he tries to put himself back together, zipping up his jeans and bracing his hand on the fence as he stands on unsteady legs, adjusting his glasses. Then he slumps back against the fence and smiles, just a little, just barely, and the video cuts out to the MikeNJay logo and the dorky guitar riff that Mike recorded for their brief credit sequences. 

Mike is still hard, close but not quite there, and he doesn’t have time for another video. He leans back in his chair and spreads his legs wider, closes his eyes and lets himself think about Jay’s more recent work, the videos that Mike has access to a holder of three premium accounts, wherein Jay is writhing on the bed in his crappy but squeaky clean apartment, turning his back to the camera and pushing his underwear down while peeking back over his shoulder, sliding his hand between his ass crack and teasing his hole while all his viewers beat off frantically and send one-handed compliments and tips via the chat. 

He must know Mike watches. Jesus, Mike has thought about him knowing, or at least suspecting, maybe fantasizing about how Mike still wants him and can’t have him, has to pay for it now. Maybe Jay loves the idea of Mike jerking his cock at the computer like all the other losers who get off to Jay’s fuckable ass. He must find Mike so pathetic, might even touch himself to the thought of Mike doing exactly what he is right now, frustrated and lonely and remembering what it was like to take Jay home after those Sid and Dex shoots and fuck him so hard, feeling like the king of the world because everyone who saw those videos was going to want Jay, and only Mike could ever really have him.

He pushes out a pained groan, won’t be able to come if he lets himself think about this shit. He switches to imagining the kind of movie they’ll shoot, if they go through with this: Jay’s character owing Mike’s money, or coming in to his impressive office for a job interview, some kind of situation where poor, sweet Jay has to get on his knees and service Mike’s huge cock because he has no other choice, because it’s the smartest financial move he can make in his position, and oh, god-- Mike can’t come to this either.

His cock is starting to chafe and those enchiladas will be arriving any moment, so he switches to thinking about their first time, how Jay spread his skinny, shaking legs for Mike and looked up at him with trust and adoration and how fucking amazing it felt to finally, finally know they both wanted it. He lets himself think about how Jay would look now, if that expression ever again graces his face while Mike hovers over him. Jay would be even more scared than he was the first time. He’d have more to lose. But he’d probably make that same soft, overwhelmed but encouraging sound he did back then, and god, what Mike would do to hear that noise while he sinks deep and slow into Jay’s tight, hot little ass, watching Jay’s face while he takes it like he used to, like he’s still Mike’s good boy who needs him so bad, who’s been hurting for him, missing that thick cock deep inside--

Mike groans and comes, finally. It’s not the best orgasm ever. He grabs for his box of tissues while his cock is still pulsing in his other hand, wipes feebly at the mess and feels like an idiot. At least he got that done before the delivery arrives. 

Hours later, he’s working on a fourth beer and close to passing out as he scans through other old videos, not hard but still searching out his favorite parts, when one or both of them were acting their little hearts out. He sticks to the Sid and Dex videos, which is true most of the time. The Dude Bros ones with Lance are strictly for when he’s trying to make himself feel like shit in the process of getting off, and he hardly ever rewatches the Rumspringa ones, the wounds involved with the end of that production and the corresponding end of his time with Jay still too raw after nine goddamn years. 

He hears his phone ding and picks it up disinterestedly, expecting a note from Jocelyn or maybe a text from Rich to check in on him. He doesn’t recognize the number and nearly spits out his mouthful of beer when he sees the message. 

_Hey, this is Jay. Jack thought you should have my number, so. Here it is._

Another message comes in while Mike is still staring at the first one, afraid that this is a dream he’s going to wake from. 

_Have you read the contractual stuff yet? I’ve been going over it with Josh. Seems legit so far._

Mike gets up and paces around, way too drunk to handle this gracefully. Why isn’t Jay drunk, after that nightmare lunch? He’d certainly seemed to need that champagne to get through it. 

He considers not responding till the morning, because that would be the cool and probably smart thing to do, but it feels too mean, particularly after staring at Jay’s innocent Dex character expressions all evening. Dex’s backstory was that his mother was dead and his father beat him. Mike had wanted to object to this as too sad, but Jay got leeway to make up whatever he wanted for Dex, so it’s canon. As the storyline progressed, Sid got softer and softer toward Dex, even offering to let Dex live with him so he could move away from the abusive father. Jay always pushed back on the softness, saying it wasn’t hot and accusing Mike of turning their movies into bad romance flicks, but his characters would still get sweet for Mike’s tough guys in-scene, whenever they showed Jay’s sad sacks a little love.

 _Thanks_ , Mike finally sends back, fingers shaking as he types. _Haven’t read the paperwork yet, just forwarded it to my lawyer. Will let you know what I think tomorrow_

He regrets that last part after sending it, because it sounds like he’s telling Jay not to contact him again tonight. The truth is, Mike is desperate to talk to him, even in stunted little texts. He’s fucking desperate for Jay, period. Always knew it, deep down. Always will be, seems like.

 _You okay?_ Mike sends after a while, sweating and drunk and knowing he should put the phone away, go to bed. 

_Yes, why?_ Jay sends back, reminding Mike how quickly he can transition from innocent-seeming sweetheart to snotty little shit.

Mike considers his response, angrily pacing around his apartment and telling himself to quit while he’s ahead, put the damn phone on the charger, respond to Jay’s infuriating message tomorrow. He reconsiders when he comes up with what he thinks is a good comeback.

_Oh I dunno Jay, why would I assume you might be experiencing some unwieldy human emotions after what went down today? You’re right, so sorry, I forgot who I was talking to_

He knows he shouldn’t send it, but he does. 

Jay doesn’t reply until the morning. Mike wakes up hungover and panicked when he remembers the events at the end of the evening. He picks up his phone, already wincing, and sees one new text from Jay.

_I forgive you. Just don’t forget again._

Mike snorts and frowns down at his phone, not sure what to make of this. In some ways it’s better than what he expected. Maybe Jay was a little drunk last night, too, after all. Either way, it’s not going to be the last time they communicate for nine years. They’ll be talking all the time if they end up writing this feature together, and will be doing a lot more than that if they actually shoot it. Mike can’t help but feel a little elated, embarrassing text message and hangover aside. He has to wonder if some part of Jay wants to do this, if it’s not just about the money. Jay could certainly get paid to shoot traditional porn with some other guy plowing him, if it really was just a matter of paying off debts and helping his family. 

But then Jay wouldn’t get the royalties from releasing their old shorts, Mike reminds himself, and his ridiculous hopes flame out quick. He tells himself to take Jay’s message to heart and nip this stupid wishful thinking in the bud. He’d do well to remember, always, exactly who he’s dealing with here: the little gremlin who stole, trashed, and finally broke his heart. Mike has to protect himself, going forward. He’s learned a thing or two since Jay left him, and one of those things is that he would not survive letting himself think he could have Jay again, only to find out he can’t. 

He gets out of bed with a groan, head pounding, and takes a shower, determined to move past last night’s wallowing and act like a professional. Jocelyn has texted him saying to come by her office at lunch to discuss the contract. There’s money to be made, scores to settle. Everything will work out, wrap up, and when it has everyone will move on, back to their separate lives. Mike has to keep this in mind, because he’ll lose it completely if he starts to think otherwise.

*


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So these chapters are still writing pretty fast, and my plan is to keep posting updates on Thursdays & Sundays. I'm sure it will be shifted if chapters get longer later in the story as they usually do, but in the meantime I'm having fun doing these 10k chapters and so appreciative of the feedback I've gotten so far, thank you and take care, everyone!! <3
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>   
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> *

Mike brings Jocelyn lunch as a thank you for fast-tracking his contract review, and they’re both slurping won ton soup in her office as they discuss the details. In general she tells him that it’s a good deal, the distribution and royalty components way overdue in her opinion, and that getting close to a quarter of a million dollars to direct and briefly star in a porn picture is almost unheard of. She says so as a way to encourage him to take the money, but also looks wary as Mike passes her an egg roll.

“What?” he says, his stomach pinching. 

“It’s a little bit too good to be true-feeling,” she says, narrowing her eyes. “Don’t you think?”

“Well-- Maybe, but they’re buying the rights to distribute the old stuff, too, plus all our unreleased bonus material. It’s a decade’s worth of work, basically,” he adds, thinking of Jay saying so.

“Even then. I don’t know, Mike. This feels like someone’s personal pet project, in a way that makes me nervous, and you know my feelings on Gilbert Hornblower.” 

“I know everybody’s feelings on Gil, by default. I thought you said the cut he’s asking for is fair?”

“It is, that’s not the issue. I guess what I’m saying is I can’t put my finger on it, but there’s some kind of intangible element of this deal that’s giving me pause. It might just be that I find Gil personally repulsive.”

“Well, sure.”

“Or,” Jocelyn says, drawing the word out in a way that makes Mike look up from his food. “It could be the involvement of someone else in this deal that’s making me hesitate to tell you to go through with it.”

“Jane Dorsey?” Mike says. He still doesn’t know anything about her.

“No,” Jocelyn says. “Jane has a good reputation. Mike-- I’m talking about Jay. As your attorney and also as your friend, um. Is making this kind of movie with your ex-boyfriend really something you’re prepared to tackle?” 

Mike stuffs an egg roll in his mouth so he won’t have to answer right away. Jocelyn has known him and Jay for a long time. She was part of the friend group that once included Josh and a handful of other Milwaukee people who were trying to be musicians, actors, whatever. She’s one of the few who knows the whole story, more or less. 

“It’s fine,” Mike says when he’s swallowed. He grabs for his can of Coke and gulps some down. “That’s all water under the bridge. I’m friends with all my exes, eventually. Me and Candy talk like once a week, at least.”

“What does she think about this?” Jocelyn asks, eyebrows going up.

“I haven’t told her yet.”

“Interesting.”

“Why interesting?”

“Because she hates Jay’s guts with the fire of a thousand suns?”

“So what? She’s not the one who has to fuck him.” 

“Has to,” Jocelyn says, and she smirks at the look Mike gives her. “Yeah, it’s gonna be a real chore, huh?”

“Shut up. I’m not still hung up on him. I’m fucking not! We just had lunch together yesterday. There was nothing, no-- Sparks, fireworks, heated exchanges. Just two level-headed people making a business deal.” 

Jocelyn snorts doubtfully and passes the printed out contract across her desk to Mike.

“Right,” she says. “Look, I don’t see any financial or rights-related loopholes in the fine print, and I think you’re okay to sign, in that sense. But don’t kid yourself that this isn’t going to knock you sideways emotionally. And think about the value of your sanity, okay? Weigh that against the money you’re going to make, and then decide it if it’s worth it.” 

“You’re way overestimating Jay’s influence on me.” 

“Mike, you shut down your entire life and moved across the country when that kid broke up with you. Some of us didn’t even hear from you for two years.” 

“Sorry,” Mike mumbles, keeping his eyes on his food. “I was-- Yeah, but that was then, this is now--”

“The marriage to Candy was also something I told you not to do, if you recall.” 

“Why’re you bringing that up?” Mike asks, scowling. “That’s not-- This, it’s not the same.”

“It’s something you did as a reaction to Jay having hurt you, and I’m worried that you’re doing this because of that, too. Because you think you can fix things between the two of you.” 

“Who the hell says I can’t? As a friend and a business associate, I mean. Fuck, stop looking at me like that. I’m different now, I’m calmer, I know how to handle myself.” 

“Are you seeing anyone?” Jocelyn asks, sitting back in her desk chair and steepling her fingers, as if suddenly she’s Mike’s therapist.

“No,” Mike says, talking with his mouth full because he knows it will annoy her. “Why?”

“Just wondering.” 

She’s implying that he hasn’t seen anyone seriously since his divorce, which is true, and not something he wants to discuss right now. 

“Gil offered to let us stay in his girlfriend’s house in L.A. while we write this thing,” Mike says, to change the subject. “What are the odds his ‘girlfriend’ is actually some actress who was moderately nice to him once so she could get a part?” 

“I’m sure Gil can get women,” Jocelyn says, wrinkling her nose at the prospect. “He’s-- Ugh. He’s got money, and some degree of influence. Look how easily he slotted you and Jay into the roles he wants for you.”

“Easy-- It wasn’t easy! This is big money, a good deal, you just said so yourself. We’re not rolling over for him for nothing.”

“But you are rolling over for him,” she says, her eyebrows going up. “Your words.”

“Fucking-- Forget it, stop acting so lawyer-y and eat your damn lunch.” 

Mike lingers at Jocelyn’s office until she kicks him out to start a conference call. He knows the next step in this process is calling Jay up and telling him he’s met with his lawyer and she’s okayed him to sign, sort of. He’s not sure why he’s so fucking nervous about the thought of this phone call. He’s got to get over this stomach-twisting dread thing soon if they’re actually going to work together. 

He delays getting over it and calls Candy instead, figuring that Jocelyn at least had a point about him avoiding telling her what’s going on, because he knows she won’t like it. Aside from Rich, his ex-wife is really his only close friend, a person he can occasionally confide in and someone he still sort of loves, though his life has been markedly better since they divorced and he’s sworn off drinking with her ever again, as she becomes the gasoline to his fire when he does, with horrific results.

“What?” she says when she answers, sounding like she just woke up, which is entirely possible. 

“You busy?” Mike asks, standing outside of Jocelyn’s law office and looking for any excuse to put off calling Jay, even if it’s having his ex-wife yell at him. “I’m in the city, downtown.” 

“Ooh, are you gonna take me out to lunch?”

“I just ate, but I can bring you something, whatta ya want?”

“Hmm,” she says. “Bringing me lunch, already ate. What’s wrong.”

“Nothing! Nothing, I just have something to tell you and I feel like in person would be best--”

“Fuhhcckk, you met someone?”

“No! It’s not that. It’s a work thing, uh. Mostly.”

“Mostly? Oh god, fucking-- Get me a sub from Patrick’s, you know the one I like, then come over and ruin my day with whatever this shit is.” 

“Do you want chips? A drink?”

“Yes, obviously!”

Mike picks up her order and is there within twenty minutes, knocking on her apartment door. She opens it looking wary but friendly enough, giving him a little smirk and a hug after thanking him for bringing the food. Her hair is suddenly blond again, something close to what might be her natural color, which Mike is pretty sure he’s never actually seen. She was a redhead when they met, and a brunette when they broke up. 

He decides not to comment on the hair and strolls around her small apartment while she eats her sandwich. He likes Candy’s place, finds it cozy and welcoming, which is good, since he paid for it. It’s got floor to ceiling windows that allow in lots of sunlight for her many plants, mostly succulents that remind her of Arizona, where she grew up, where Mike found her while he was in self-imposed exile. Some would say that Jay imposed the exile and kicked him out of Milwaukee, but that’s not accurate at all. Mike had moved to Milwaukee for Jay, and when they weren’t together anymore he was certain he’d never set foot in the city again as he blew out of town with his eyes still puffy and burning. He eventually came back for work, because all his porn-making contacts are here, and Candy came with him as his wife, a huge mistake that he nonetheless doesn’t entirely regret. They had some good, insane times together until the end. 

“So?” Candy says when Mike wanders back in from her balcony after admiring the tenth story view of the city that he’s come to love again, as its own not-Jay-focused thing. “Are you done with the inspection?” she asks. “Ready to give me your bad news?”

“It’s not bad,” Mike says, taking a seat across from her at her little dining room table. “You’re gonna tell me I’m out of my mind, but it’s still good news, especially financially.” 

“Uh-oh,” she says, frowning. “Who’s giving you money, and for what?”

“Mhm, well. Do you remember Gil Hornblower?”

Candy’s eyes widen and she pauses in mid-lift with a chip halfway raised to her mouth. 

“That shithead?” she says. “Ugh, is he making you go out to L.A.? Don’t move to L.A., Mike, the money’s not going to be as good out there as it sounds here--”

“Will you fucking listen?” Mike says, bad memories of being married to her making his tone too harsh. She just lifts her lip at him and pops the chip in her mouth, unperturbed. “I’m not going to L.A. I’m gonna do one picture for Under the Lake, out here. And they’re going to release the old MikeNJay stuff, properly, so I’ll get paid for it, finally.” 

“Whoa,” she says, flattening her hands on the table. “Seriously? That’s awesome, that’s-- But, wait. They got Jay to sign off on the distribution, too?”

“Yep,” Mike says, his heart rate picking up. She really does hate Jay, because the whole history of their marriage was the process of her figuring out that Mike was still too fucked up on him, and by him, to be in love with anyone else yet. 

“Huh,” Candy says, studying Mike’s face. “Youuu, what? You’ve seen him? He’s part of this?”

“I just saw him yesterday--”

“Ohhh, jesus.” 

“What?” Mike snaps, watching her get up and crumble her lunch garbage angrily between her hands, heading for the kitchen. “Go ahead and catastrophize if it’ll make you feel better, but we’re both grown up now--”

“Wait,” she says, slamming the lid of her garbage can shut and hurrying back to Mike, wide-eyed. “Hang the fuck on, are they asking to make a movie for Under the Lake _together_? You and-- Him?”

“It’s-- Yeah, that’s part of the deal--”

Candy laughs in the full body cackle that Mike once found charming. She doesn’t actually look amused, is putting it on and being dramatic. Mike just stares at her, expected as much. 

“Are you-- Fucking crazy?” she says, walking closer, cocking her head and pinching her brows together. “Mike, ummm. Are they asking you to fuck your ex on camera, like, as a gimmick? For their movie? Like some sick reality show where we all get to see if this results in your nervous breakdown or not, is that the idea?”

“Why would I have a nervous breakdown?” Mike asks, hearing how unconvincing he sounds. 

Candy sputters and walks over to slam her palm onto the table, leaning down to get up in his face. 

“Honey,” she says. “This is the worst idea you’ve ever had. And I’m saying that as someone who once watched you try to steal a police officer’s horse.” 

“I wasn’t-- That was just a Ghostbusters gag, I wasn’t really trying to--”

“Mike!” Candy drops into her chair again and drags it closer to his, looking sincerely worried for him in a way that’s freaking him out. “You can’t-- You can’t be around that little demon and not feel just-- Awful, can you? What was it like, to see him? Ugh, I bet he’s worse than ever, he’s so vain and up his own ass--” 

“He wasn’t like that at all,” Mike says. 

Candy rolls her eyes. 

“He wasn’t! It was totally chill, Rich and Jack were there--”

“Aww, how is Jack?”

“He’s exactly the same. It was good, the whole thing was good, there’s a good vibe, even Jocelyn thinks so.” This is a lie that Candy would see through if she knew Jocelyn better, but she doesn’t. “I had her look over the paperwork, and she gave me the okay. I think-- I’m gonna sign, gonna do this. I’m excited about it, actually.”

“Yeahhh, no shit.” Candy snorts and sits back, shaking her head. “And what happens when Jay blows up at you on set about some petty bullshit and calls the whole thing off?”

“That’s not gonna happen. Jay needs the money.” 

“I’ll bet.” 

“Anyway,” Mike says, mostly angry that this is making him feel defensive of Jay. He stands and crosses his arms over his chest, pacing while she watches. “It’s-- I just wanted to share this news with you, I knew you’d be a dick to me about it so that’s fine, but just for your information, this is the plan.”

“And you’re not freaking out at all,” Candy says. She smirks when he glares at her, then looks more sympathetic and stands with a sigh. “Mike,” she says, coming over to pet his arm. “Seriously, dude. You don’t have to do this. Gil is disgusting, Jay is a sellout prick, and I know you’re bitter about the old videos still being out there and not making you any cash, but you’re doing okay, you don’t need to put yourself in danger for any amount of money.” 

“Danger?” Mike says, scoffing and moving out of her grip. “Candy--”

“Yes, danger! Man, you were a wreck when we met. So was I, but I’m not out here trying to recreate my state of mind when I was stripping in Scottsdale. I’m worried, for real, that this could make you, uh. Relapse, so to speak.” 

Mike’s first impulse is to sneer and dismiss her again, but he lets his shoulders slump and decides to treat this concern with respect, because it’s not like they didn’t go to some dark places together and see each other at their absolute worst.

“Don’t worry about me,” Mike says, leaning down to give her a little peck on the forehead. Sometimes he feels downright brotherly toward her, which makes some of the shit they did to each other back in the day seem more like a fever dream than reality. “I’m not going to be alone while I do this, for one. I’ll report back to you frequently, how’s that? And Rich will be crew, so. I’ll have him there to support me.” 

“To support your dick going in Jay’s ass?” Candy says, razor sharp where she was just baby soft. It’s a trait she has in common with Jay, something Mike is apparently attracted to even while it’s also his least favorite thing in the world, to be drawn in by sweetness and then get slashed with someone’s jagged edges.   
  
“That’s right,” Mike snaps. “It’s called sex work. You used to understand what it was like to separate your feelings from the job, back when you, like, worked for a living.” 

That was below the belt and he already regrets it, wincing. Candy just rolls her eyes, but she also walks away from him to hide what’s probably genuine hurt on her face. She doesn’t miss the job, so far as Mike can tell, and certainly doesn’t miss stripping, but there’s still a sting that comes with aging out of that kind of work, and Mike can relate in a way that makes him feel extra awful for flinging that at her.

“Fine,” she says when she turns back to Mike, standing in the middle of her sunny living room, surrounded by her plants. “I’m lucky, I know, and I do depend on you for money, so I guess it’s hypocritical to, like, care that you could be hurt by a job--”

“It’s not, I’m sorry--”

“But this isn’t just some former collaborator who you’re going to be working with intimately, Mike. I don’t know how much you remember about the times when we were binging, when you would talk about Jay, when you would fucking sob with your head in my lap about how he’d broken you--”

“Eugh,” Mike says, wincing again. He remembers more of that than he’d like to.

“Yeah,” Candy says, staring him down. “That’s the person you’re partnering up with, and that’s the reason they want you to do it. Because they think it’s going to be-- Fucking painful, and they want that on camera, to sell. Don’t pretend not to understand that, please.”

Mike groans and drops into a chair at the dining room table again. His hands are shaking a little when he brings them up to cover his eyes, hunched forward with his elbows on his knees.

“Here’s the really fucked up thing,” Mike says, mumbling and glad he came here, because she’s the only one he can admit this to. “I want to do it for him, I think. Beyond all else, just. Because he needs help, and Gil told me he’s got people stalking him--” 

“Oh, Mike,” Candy says. She crosses the room and stands in front of him, strokes his hair. It feels good. He hasn’t had anyone touch him with real care in a while. 

“I can’t take this away from him,” Mike says, straightening to stare up at her. “Isn’t that fucked up? Even now, I just. I want to save him, because everything that’s gone wrong in his life feels like my fault.”

“But you know it’s not,” Candy says, stroking his face. “Right? Even if it feels that way.” 

“Mph. Maybe.” 

“Honey. You can’t single-handedly ruin people, just like you can’t single-handedly fix them. That’s not what you do with people. That’s not how it works.”

“Uhh, you can definitely single-handedly ruin people.” 

“Some people could, but not you, okay? You’re not a life-ruiner. You’re just not.”

Mike grunts. He knows she’s talking about the two of them a bit, too. 

“I just wish--” Mike says, not sure how to say what he’s thinking without hurting her feelings, because he wishes he could go back in time and do it all over again with Jay, which is to say, none of it, except for the falling in love with each other part.

But even that’s not true, strictly. He’s not just doing this deal out of the goodness of his heart or to make money. He also loves the idea of writing with Jay again, shooting with him, directing him, and doing the sex scene with him that’s contractually required, not just for the excuse to fuck him again but because it will be in the service of making an incredible, hot, disturbing monstrosity of a motion picture that will blow the people at Under the Lake away. Sick as it is, he can’t fucking wait to see how this is going to go, hasn’t been this excited about anything in nine years. 

“I can see there’s no changing your mind,” Candy says, her mouth quirking as she stares down into Mike’s eyes. “Just-- Fuck, Mike. I’m here for you, okay?”

“I know. Thanks. I’ll be okay, I promise.”

She rolls her eyes, knowing better than most that his promises don’t necessarily mean much.

It’s windy and warm outside when Mike leaves her place, and he spends some time just walking around the city and basking in the increasingly nice weather for a while, thinking. It’s almost four o’clock by the time he braces himself, finds a quiet spot near the lakefront, and dials Jay’s number. 

Jay answers on the second ring. Mike freezes up, wasn’t ready. 

“Mike?” Jay says, and fuck, it still gets to him, hearing Jay say his name like that: wanting something, waiting, asking for him--

“Um, sorry,” Mike says. He clears his throat. “Just having this out of body experience where suddenly I’m on the phone with you, so.” 

Jay snickers. Mike’s heart lifts. He’s so fucked, Candy is right. 

“Did you read the paperwork?” Jay asks, quickly back to business, no comment on Mike’s remark on this weird as fuck situation that is somehow happening. 

“I did, and my lawyer did, and, yeah. Looks good, um. Looks like we’re gonna make some cash.”

“Yes,” Jay says, breathing this out, sounding relieved.

“And a movie,” Mike says, flatly, challenging him to deal with this. “We’re also gonna make one of those. Together. Sounds like.” 

Jay snorts. “Yeah, I know. It’s fucking surreal. Hey, look, um. Are you free tonight? To come over and talk about all this?”

Mike heart does a thing. He’s pretty sure it just left his chest and flung itself out over Lake Michigan, that he can see it skipping giddily away into the distance.

“Sh’yeah,” he says, an embarrassing combination of the words ‘sure’ and ‘yeah’ that makes him sound like an idiot, but who cares, because: “Do you mean, uh. To come over, like. To your place?”

“Yeah. I’ll text you the address. I can make you dinner, even. I know-- Look, uh. I know you’re doing me a big favor by going through with this, Mike, and I’m not gonna pretend otherwise.” 

“Whoa, what--? I’m not-- I--”

“How about seven,” Jay says, sharply. 

“Seven, sure-- Uhh. Can I bring anything?”

“Just your copy of the contract. Josh thinks it’s okay, too, but we should really go over it together before we sign.”

“Right, of course--”

“Okay. Address forthcoming, see you soon.”

Jay hangs up before Mike can stutter out any more embarrassing, clearly overwhelmed remarks. He stares down at his phone in disbelief, sweat gathering across the back of his neck at the thought of showing up at Jay’s door in three hours, eating dinner with him, talking about all this shit for real, and oh, god-- Being alone with him? For hours?

Mike tells himself to calm down, get over it. Of course they’re going to be spending time alone together, while they write this new thing and put together remasters of their old material. He curses and nearly jumps out of his skin when his phone buzzes again, and immediately enters the address Jay sent him into a search engine, surprised to see that it’s a luxury condo with lake views, not far from where Mike is standing now. Feeling strangely spied upon, Mike hurries back toward where he parked and heads home to shower, obsess over his outfit choices, and try to cobble together some kind of mental armor against the onslaught of shit he’s about to feel when he’s face to face with Jay, just the two of them. 

He tells himself not to forget that Jay must be freaking out, too, carefully considering what to wear and cook and say. Jay was obviously nervous at that lunch, leaning on Jack for emotional support, and without Jack there he might very well be a mess. Will they drink at dinner, Mike wonders? Will they get drunk together? They shouldn’t. Definitely not. 

And yet, because he always clings hardest to his worst impulses, Mike so desperately wants to do that that his mouth is watering for it by the time he gets back in his car to return to the city, hands shaking on the steering wheel. 

He needs a drink, he decides, but he’ll have to drive home later, so he’ll limit himself to two: beers, glasses of wine, craft cocktails, whatever Jay is serving. He’s got to be serving something. As ill-advised as it would be to get blasted together to ease the pain of this encounter, it would also be disastrous to try to do it totally sober, Mike feels.

Approaching Jay’s address feels only halfway like meeting him for lunch the day before did. The dread and fear are there, and the sense that maybe Mike should turn and run after having parked in the place’s max security deck, to which Mike had to enter a six-digit code Jay gave him to gain entry, but along with all that there’s something new, which Mike hadn’t known to expect the day before: excitement, anticipation, even a kind of burgeoning joy, because what if this works out okay? Doesn’t Jay calling him up and inviting him over for a home-cooked meal seem to indicate it will, already?

In addition to the security gate in the deck, there’s also a security desk when Mike walks into the lobby, which is just as posh as he feared. It really makes no sense that Jay is living here if he’s also having financial problems. Did he overspend, get cocky when those Dix subscription numbers started going up? Is he stuck in a cash poor situation where he’s living in a luxe but empty apartment that he can’t sell? Jay’s videos mostly feature clean, simple backgrounds that never suggested to Mike that he was living in luxury, years ago or recently.

“Here you are,” the beefy security guy says when he finds Mike’s name on a list of expected visitors. He checks Mike’s ID, looking at it for longer than Mike finds polite. Mike is due to renew his driver’s license on his birthday later this year, and the current picture shows a twelve-years younger Mike, whose smug smile for the DMV’s camera was genuine, because he was still with Jay and everything looked like it was going to keep on going his way back then, for as far as he could see.

In the elevator, Mike boggles at the fact that the 20th is the topmost floor of this building, and apparently Jay’s residence. The security guy has to scan a card to get the penthouse elevator button to activate. 

“Have a pleasant evening,” he says, giving Mike an unfriendly once-over as the doors shut, like he’s wondering what this schlub in unstylish jeans and a short-sleeved button down from Target is doing visiting the penthouse floor where the tiny prince of Milwaukee lives. 

Mike rehearses some smart ass lines about the fussy ceremony and probable cost of this place on the ride up, his heart slamming and some of the excitement he felt in the parking garage flipping over to uneasy dread, because what the fuck is this? Nothing about this place feels like Jay.

He has to remind himself, as the elevator arrives at its penthouse destination and settles into place, that he doesn’t know what Jay feels like anymore. Only what he used to feel like.

The elevators doors open directly to the penthouse, and the smiling face that’s there to greet him is not Jay’s.

“Mike!” Josh says, beaming and beckoning him inside, cheerfully ignoring the look of confused disappointment on Mike’s face. “Wow, hi! It’s crazy to finally see you again. Crazy good, I mean!”

Mike steps inside to survey the place. Jay is nowhere to be seen, and the foyer is designed to look like a narrow zen garden, with dark flagstones that make a bridge-like walkway over a burbling water feature that’s basically an artificial pond. Plants that look exotic seem to be growing out of the foyer’s polished stone walls. 

“You-- This is your place?” Mike says.

“Oh, jesus, no!” Josh says, laughing. “I’m not that kind of lawyer. This is, uhh, way out of my price range.”

“Jay is-- This is his-- Is he even here?”

“He’s in the kitchen, yeah! This is Simon’s place. Jay’s just staying here since, you know, the whole-- Stalker thing?” Josh says, lowering his voice.

“I heard,” Mike says, his stomach plummeting and pulling his heart down with it. He’s such a fucking idiot. “Simon, you mean, from school--” 

“Yep, that’s him! Same old Simon from back in the day. He’s out in L.A. now, you know, but he keeps a place here for, uh, midwest business-- Jay can tell you more, c’mon in.”

Mike almost wants to refuse. Two years ago, maybe even two days ago, he would have. He makes himself think about the fact that the air inside this ridiculous, sprawling penthouse smells good, familiar, like the kind of cheap but satisfying meal he and Jay used to cook together in their dumpy apartment by the airport, and he follows Josh toward that scent. He can’t be mad; he’s got to calm down. 

Simon was their T.A. at Columbia, and sort of a friend. He was always more Jay’s friend than Mike’s, in a way that used to make Mike jealous and more than a little suspicious about Simon’s feelings for Jay. Now Simon is a ‘real’ director working regularly in Hollywood, making what’s essentially porn dressed up as indie horror. He’s done three mostly under the radar but well-reviewed films, and one panned but financially successful franchise reboot. Mike tries not to take Simon’s success personally, but he always has.

He’s heard before that Simon and Jay kept in touch. He’s also seen fans on Jay’s Q&A chats ask if it’s true that Simon is his boyfriend. Jay never responds, but all signs suddenly point to yes, and Mike is not going to have a tantrum about it, even as this information crawls under his skin like burning coals, burrowing deeper with every step he takes through the perfectly decorated, museum-like rooms and toward the open kitchen, which is all clean lines and marble surfaces. Jay is at the enormous stainless steel stove, his back to them as they walk in. 

“Look who’s here!” Josh says, and Jay turns. 

Mike is not going to survive this, because Jay looks too fucking perfect to be real, especially when he grins like he’s actually glad that Mike is here, despite the fact that he’s invited Mike into the den of his impressive Hollywood boyfriend and forced Josh to join them, because of course Jay doesn’t actually want to be alone with Mike, here or elsewhere, now or ever.

“I’m making peanut noodles,” Jay says, walking toward Mike and stopping short of anything so bold as shaking his hand. He’s in socks and well-fitting black sweatpants, a gray t-shirt. He’s glowing, which is cruel, though maybe unintentional, his cheeks flushed from the steam rising from the pot of noodles he was just stirring, which has also dislodged a strand of gold hair that hangs over his forehead in an adorable cowlick. “Do you still like them?” he asks when Mike just stands there staring at him in disbelief, not sure where to begin. 

“Uh-huh,” Mike says. He looks around the glittering kitchen pointedly, and out at the floor to ceiling windows that line the far wall, offering a view of the lake that’s better than any Mike has seen from any building downtown, ever. “Umm,” he says, turning back to Jay. “This place is fucking-- What is this place?”

“Simon’s apartment.” Jay’s smile changes a little, maybe with something like humility, or apology, since he’s essentially confessing to Mike that he lives-- With Simon, or? At least in one of his fucking investment properties, jesus. “I know, it’s-- It’s a lot. The windows make me nervous. But everything makes me nervous lately, so. I’m here for the security, that’s it. It wasn’t really safe at my place.”

“You-- What happened?”

“Oh god,” Jay says, turning for the fridge. “Can we not start with that? Do you want a beer?”

Of course Mike wants a beer. When Jay turns from the fridge to hand one to him, Mike takes it and thanks him, wanting to reach out and smooth that cowlick down so badly that it’s physically painful.

“You’ve got, ah--” Mike says, pointing to Jay’s hair, then his own. “Your hair’s coming undone.” 

Jay snorts and gives Mike a look like that was a weird thing to remark on, because it was, then runs his fingers through his hair, reordering it. Josh is seated at the long marble-top island in the center of the kitchen, consulting his phone and giving them a moment. 

“Here’s to, uhh,” Jay says, lifting his beer bottle toward Mike’s. “This new project, I guess.”

“Cheers,” Mike says, so with such deadpan dread that Jay laughs before toasting him and drinking. Mike tries not to grin, but that sparkling thing that Jay’s eyes do when he laughs at something Mike said makes it automatic, and Mike is smiling, too, after he’s swallowed two big gulps of beer. 

“Josh says the contract looks good,” Jay says, shifting into business mode and walking over to stand beside Josh at the island. “Glad to hear Jocelyn agrees.”

“Yeah, I could have brought her,” Mike says, too bitterly, but it’s too late to take back. “Didn’t realize we were bringing our lawyers to this meeting.”

“Aww,” Josh says, setting his phone down. “I’m not just here as a lawyer. I wanted to see you, to catch up.”

“Right.” Mike glances at Jay, who is of course avoiding Mike’s eyes, touching the pages of the printed contract that’s sitting on the countertop. 

“This is all very exciting,” Josh says when Jay and Mike both say nothing for a perhaps awkward amount of time. “Also, uh. A little daunting, I think it’s fair to say? Especially the time frame.” 

“I can make it work,” Mike says, projecting confidence as a default when Jay is present, like always. “I’m just wrapping up the shit I’ve been shooting for Manhole’s summer release.”

Jay snorts and gives Mike a timid look, takes a slug of beer.

“Sorry,” Jay says when Mike just stares at him. “That name, jesus.”

At least I have a production company, Mike almost says, plugging his mouth with his beer bottle so that he won’t. And not just a webcam, he thinks, knowing Jay can see this meanness in his eyes anyway. 

“Obviously I can make it work, too,” Jay says, his eyes hardening as he holds Mike’s stare. “I’m real flexible these days.” 

Mike has to turn away from him in a pretense of checking on the noodles, because he’s flushing, thinking of how he knows exactly how flexible Jay is in this newly fit body, because he’s watched the videos that demonstrate such. 

“Speaking of that,” Jay says, following him over to the stove. “I was thinking about how to announce this on my channels. Obviously it would be a good advertisement for the upcoming stuff, and the contract says we’ll share some amount of marketing responsibility through our existing brands--”

“Yeah, I saw that part,” Mike says, though he’s not sure Jocelyn mentioned it. Hearing Jay talk about his ‘brand’ is like ice down the back of his shirt, though Mike can relate. He also has a brand that doesn’t reflect anything authentic anymore.

“Soo,” Jay says. “Since we’re partnering up for all this, I just wanted to ask if you’re okay with me doing my own marketing, like, if you want input, or--”

“Oh god, no,” Mike says, wincing at the thought of writing ad copy for immediate Dix Online release. “Promote it however you want to on there, I trust you.” 

Mike glances over at him after saying so. Jay’s lips are parted in what might be shock. Mike shrugs and drinks from his beer. He means it when he says he trusts Jay, though he wasn’t sure he did until seeing Jay like this, up close and in person. Maybe they don’t know each other anymore, which certainly seems to be the case if Jay is living here on Simon’s dime in exchange for god knows what, but there’s still a baseline thing between them because of how well they knew each other once. Jay isn’t stupid and wouldn’t do anything on his channels to hurt this deal. Mike can trust him that far, at least.

“Okay,” Jay says, grabbing for a wooden spoon to give the noodles a stir. “The thing is, though, uhh. Since I’ll be talking about this project, there’s some level of-- Talking about you, and the past, which I’ve never done--”

“Yeah, why is that?” Mike asks, trying to keep his expression impassive as his heart starts racing. 

“Why-- What, have I never--”

“I’ve heard you pretty pointedly avoid talking about it.”

“Well, yeah.” Jay frowns like Mike is insane for not understanding why. Mike remembers this expression well, hasn’t missed it. “I mean, it was out of respect, you know, for you-- I wasn’t going to gossip about that shit. It’s not anybody’s business.”

“Until now!”

Jay rolls his eyes. “Yeah, and I’m not happy about it, but you know they want us to market this thing as some kind of dramatic reunion, blah blah. I’m not going to play into that the way they want me to, but since whatever I say about it is going to require some kind of mention of-- You, I just wanted to, like. Mention it. To you. Before I do it.” 

“Yeah, I get it. I said I trust you and I meant it. Say whatever you want about me. I know you’re not going to lie to make yourself look better or anything.” 

Saying so suddenly makes Mike not so sure, actually, and he can see Jay picking up on this when their eyes meet, Jay’s upper lip twitching a bit. 

“One thing I wanted to ask you about, Mike,” Josh says, tossing this in through the tension that’s growing between them, “Is the actors you’re considering for this, other than Jay and yourself. If you’ve thought about that yet.”

This sounds rehearsed and is obviously a concern of Jay’s that he asked Josh to bring up. Mike almost rolls his eyes. He doesn’t, because it’s a fair question and he instantly feels bad that Jay is worried about it. 

“Because the contract stipulates that Jay does scenes with other actors as well as you,” Josh says. “And, uh, since you’ve been off camera for a while, I figured you’re probably going to keep your scenes fairly minimal even outside of that?”

“Man, this just got dumped on me yesterday,” Mike says. “I haven’t even come up with any basic ideas for the storyline yet.” He glances at Jay, who’s staring down into the noodle pot and stirring it needlessly, cheeks extra flushed and cowlick escaping again. “Have you?” he asks, more quietly. 

“Me-- What?” Jay looks up at him, wide-eyed. “Storylines? God, no. I’m still trying to get my head around this, too. I just thought-- Josh thought-- We should talk about who else is going to be involved. I don’t have a crew or a studio, obviously, so. I guess it’s going to be all, uh. Your people?”

“Rich, obviously,” Mike says. “He’ll be camera crew.” 

“He’s okay with--?” Jay winces, shoulders lifting. “Seeing you, uh. Like that?”

“I don’t know, I’ll ask him. But I have other guys who I’d trust to shoot my scenes if he doesn’t want to. And of course we can use my studio, yeah. It’s-- You’ll be safe there. I promise.”

Mike isn’t sure where that came from, except that he’s enormously, irrationally jealous that moneybags Simon is providing Jay with this castle in the sky during his crisis. He wishes he could protect Jay similarly, though it’s insane to think he could or that Jay would even want him to. 

Jay stares at Mike in mild disbelief for a moment before nodding.

“Okay,” Jay says, looking down at the stove again. “Thanks, um. And the other actors? The contract asks for three guys in scenes, in addition to the two of us.” 

Mike groans at the thought of casting this and Jay looks up at him, his expression curious and then annoyed. 

“What?” Jay says, frowning. “You must have regular guys you work with--”

“Of course I do. Jesus, I’m surprised they didn’t try to contract us into getting Lance involved.”

Mike shouldn’t have said that. Jay gulps from his beer and avoids his eyes. 

“Are you-- When’s the last time you spoke to Lance?” Josh asks, trying to help. Mike understands why he’s here now, and is almost glad about it. 

“The last time I spoke to Lance, hmm,” Mike says. “That would be when he threatened to sue me for not being able to control people on the internet who were passing our old stuff around.” 

“He wasn’t serious,” Jay mumbles.

“And you’d know how?” Mike asks, regretting the volume of his voice. Of course Mike already wants to get into a shouting match, of course they’re already fighting about Lance, of course. 

“I still talk to him sometimes.” Jay squares his shoulders and looks up at Mike, holding his gaze like he dares Mike to have a problem with this. “He’s not bitter about the whole thing anymore. He married a rich guy who owns that boat dealership where he works. They have kids and everything.” 

“Great,” Mike says, holding Jay’s stare in a similar way, not backing down. “Happy ending for Lance. What a relief.” 

Jay rolls his eyes and breaks first, walking over to some ingredients he’s set out on a chopping board on the other side of the stove. 

“Anyway,” Josh says. “The actors you normally work with, ah. You’re planning to use them, or--?” 

“Simon wants to be involved,” Jay says, before Mike can answer. 

“He-- What?” Mike snorts and waits for Jay to look up at him, but he’s chopping peanuts into a fine dust, refusing eye contact. “Involved how?” 

“He wants to be one of the guys in the movie, so that I’m not just with your guys and you.” 

“Okay, wait.” Mike smacks his beer down on the countertop, so hard that Jay looks up angrily, maybe to check Simon’s property for damage. “There’s no fucking way he’s willing to act in a movie directed by me, just-- Simon hasn’t even acted in anything since college.” 

“It’s been almost that long for you,” Jay says, muttering. 

“Yeah, and for you, too, last time I checked, unless writhing around on a webcam counts.”

“Hey, now,” Josh says. 

Jay gives Mike a disturbing fake smile when he looks up, his eyes sharp.

“You think it’s easy, huh?” Jay says. “What I do? Yeah, we’ll see. We’ll fuckin’ see how easy it is for you to suddenly be on camera again.”

“Look, I’m sure I’ll be awful,” Mike says, pretending he’s not worried about this. “The contract doesn’t stipulate that either us has to do a good job.” 

He sees Jay’s face fall and wants to think this means he’s been fantasizing about making some amazing movie with Mike for the past twenty-four hours, too. 

“Guys, c’mon,” Josh says. “There’s plenty of time to work out the, er, kinks in the chemistry, once you have a script-- And Mike, I think having Simon star is a great idea. He’s got a reputation, can help you advertise, and it’d be another publicity draw. Plus, Jay’s point is fair. Having someone who isn’t in your entourage on set would be a real comfort to him, I think.”

“Can you speak for yourself on this?” Mike asks when Jay meets his eyes again. “Or should I direct questions to your lawyer?”

“Stop being an asshole,” Jay says, so soft and sincere that Mike feels terrible. 

“Seriously, man,” Josh says. “I’m just here to help.” 

“Sorry,” Mike says, to Josh. He turns to Jay. “I’m sorry,” he says, more quietly, stepping closer. “That was-- If you need Simon around to feel okay, of course he can be there. Fuck, his character can rescue yours from mine at the end, if you want. I guess you guys are, uh. Together, huh?”

“What?” Jay gives Mike that you-must-be-crazy look again, and this time Mike fucking loves it. “No, we’re not-- I mean. We’ve hooked up a few times, when he was in town, a while ago, but-- It’s not like that, no. We’re just friends.” 

“Friends who’ve hooked up,” Mike says, trying not to be an asshole again. 

Jay shrugs. His face is red. Mike wants to-- He’s not even sure. Get smashed with Jay and wreck Simon’s place, apologize to Jay again, run away and never look back at any of this. His chest hurts, and his skin feels too tight. 

“Don’t fucking look at me like that,” Jay says, mumbling this so quietly that Mike isn’t sure he intends for Josh to hear. “You married a stripper, Mike.”

Mike sputters, struggling not to laugh, because he should resent Jay for that remark but can’t help but find it funny. 

“She’s not a stripper,” Mike says. “I mean, she was, but--” He doesn’t say: and you can talk like that’s a bad thing why? Jay looks like he can hear this and feels stupid for that remark anyway. “What’s Candy got to do with anything?”

“Just-- ah! You’re looking at me like I’m-- Never mind. You’re okay with Simon being in it?”

“I said I was, and I mean what I fucking say.”

Jay lifts his eyebrows like he’s not sure that’s true, then goes back to chopping herbs.

“I don’t think it would be a good idea to have his character rescue mine,” Jay says. “Because this movie is for fans of our old stuff. They’re gonna want our characters to end up together.”

“True,” Mike says, his heart lifting, also aching. 

“And I was thinking, actually-- Simon should be the villain. The questions I get about him sometimes, from fans of our old shorts-- They don’t like him, so. Anyway, uh. Just an idea.”

“A good idea,” Mike says, meaning it, and not just because he’d personally love to steal Jay away from Simon on camera. He grins when Jay looks up at him the way he always did when Mike liked one of his suggestions, as if it means a lot to Jay and he’s filled with relief, also a little surprised. 

“Agreed,” Josh says when Mike and Jay have been staring at each other for a while in a surprisingly comfortable silence, at least on Mike’s end. 

Mike accepts another beer and hovers while Jay cooks, trying not to stare too overtly. Jay is everything Mike loves, physically: small but sturdy, blond and sunny in a way that makes him still seem like a kid at nearly forty, even with the crow’s feet that crinkle at the corners of his eyes when he smiles and that beard, which is so perfectly groomed that it’s somehow pretty. Jay and Josh chatter amicably about whatever while Mike listens and puts in the occasional comment, mostly grunting. The meal Jay is cooking is one they made all the time in college and afterward, simple and tasty and cheap. The fact that Jay choose their old noodle staple for this dinner feels like a gentle gesture of peacemaking and also like a knife in Mike’s gut, because god, that smell, their past, Jay’s sweet eyes when he smiles at Mike like he hopes Mike will like what he’s saying-- It all hurts, bad, even after two beers. 

Mike is a good sport, keeping the pain off his face as much as possible. He finishes his second beer with dinner and helps himself to a huge portion of the noodles, which should keep him sober enough, especially if this evening continues past dinner in the way he hopes it will, possibly with Josh leaving them alone together once he’s gotten the okay from Jay that it’s safe to do so. 

“How’s Rich doing?” Jay asks when conversation lags a little at the dinner table. 

“He’s got a new girlfriend,” Mike says. “Seems serious.”

“Oh.” Jay stirs what’s left on his plate, and Mike knows what he’s thinking, waits to see if he’ll voice it. “You, uh. Seeing anyone, currently?”

“Nope,” Mike says, feeling like he could do a backflip with glee just for knowing that Jay cares enough to ask. “You?”

Jay snorts and gives Mike that are you kidding me look again. 

“No,” Jay says. “My life isn’t exactly conducive to dating.” 

“Why’s that.”

“Uhh, well. How am I gonna meet people? I can’t go to gay bars in Milwaukee or go on Grindr or normal dating services or-- I mean, people either know who I am or figure it out eventually. And it gets weird fast.”

“I know,” Mike says. His situation is similar enough. “I haven’t dated much since Candy. And that was-- I mean, you probably know.”

“Know what?” 

It seems like a sincere question. Jay’s eyes are soft and unjudging, and he’s finished three beers, also may have had one or two before Mike got here, based on how twinkly his eyes were when Mike showed up. Mike gets the feeling Jay’s tolerance for booze has gone down, based on his streamlined physique. Josh has gotten quiet, not uncomfortably but as if he’s only here in case of emergency and wants to give them space to talk to each other in the meantime.

“She’s a good person, but it was a shitty marriage,” Mike says, wanting to give this to Jay like a present. His weakness is wanting to give Jay everything, always: still, apparently.

“Oh?” Jay says. He’s seated at the head of the expensive-looking table and is leaning slightly to his right, toward Mike, maybe a little more so now that this subject has come up. 

Mike holds Jay’s searching, tipsy gaze and wonders if he should bring up the drinking, the brushes with death and with the law, all the worst stuff. Probably not, at least for now.

“We were both in a bad place when we met,” Mike says, figuring this isn’t an admission that his bad place was Jay’s doing, since he didn’t marry Candy until almost two years after Jay dumped him. “And we sorta helped each other stay there, in ways that we thought were doing the opposite.” 

“Ah. Is she still in Milwaukee?”

“Yep.” Mike clears his throat, wants to change the subject. If Candy and Jay ever met, that would probably be bad, though he thinks they would get along well if they gave each other a chance. That could potentially be the worst part, for Mike’s purposes. “Speaking of bad places,” he says. “This stalking thing, jesus-- Are you okay?” 

Jay looks down at his plate, and Mike wishes he hadn’t brought it up. He can see already that Jay’s impulse is to shutter himself against the subject, and he glances at Josh for help. Josh is looking at Jay, too, his expression soft, waiting to see what he’ll say. 

“I’m just sick of all of it,” Jay says, mumbling and toying with his fork. “The way people-- The whole thing. Obviously not everyone who watches the channels wants to-- Whatever. Find me, see me in person, know everything about me. But it feels that way, now.” 

“Is the guy who did it in jail or what?” Mike asks, so forcefully that Jay looks up at him with surprise. 

“Uhh, no, unfortunately,” Josh says. “He was charged with harassment and issued a citation, and we have a restraining order now, so if he makes any further approaches, we’ll have grounds to file charges and potentially he could serve jail time--”

“It’s fucking exhausting,” Jay says, staring at the center of the table. “And I just. Want it be over, so. I’m staying here at Simon’s place, and he’s told the security in the building to tell the police if anyone who I’m not expecting shows up looking for me here, and-- I’m not going out alone, and after we do this movie and sell our old shorts, hopefully I can just-- Be done with all of it.” 

Jay flashes an angry look at Mike, as if Mike is going to rebut or make light of any of this. 

“You don’t like it,” Mike says, as flatly as he can, trying not to let himself sink into complete, visible despair for having backed Jay into this corner, if that’s what happened. “The webcam stuff, I mean.” 

“It’s-- Fine,” Jay says, exhaling. “I mean, it was, for a while. I always liked being on camera. Doing-- You know. Performing, playing a part, all that stuff. I thought it would translate, but when it’s live, and it’s _me_ , it’s just-- I get that little thrill in the moment, but after the stream ends it fades and I just. Sink. And it’s so fucking tiring to get the same questions and requests, over and over, and to have to be polite about it because the tips are paying my bills. Makes you lose your faith in humanity, a little, actually.”

“Jay--”

“I don’t want to talk about it, really,” Jay says, standing with his plate so abruptly that the chair makes an ugly noise against the polished wood floor. “Sorry, just. I’m tired. Think I had too much to drink, too.”

Mike looks to Josh again when Jay has left the table, and this time Josh gives him a tight head shake that signals clearly: don’t push it, buddy.

“Guess I’ll head out, then,” Mike says, standing with his plate. He brings it into the kitchen, where Jay is furiously scrubbing his own plate in the sink, and stands beside him for a while, waiting for a little look or a muttered goodbye, anything.

“Thanks,” Jay says when he finally takes the plate, speaking under his breath in a way that makes Mike feel like he should just leave Jay alone, because otherwise he risks seeing Jay cry and knowing it’s his fault, that all of this is. Even Simon’s show-off wealth feels like Mike’s fault, at present. 

“We’ll talk soon,” Mike says, lifting his hand without thinking. He drops it back to his side without touching Jay. He would give a lot right now just to squeeze Jay’s shoulder, and would potentially give up a limb to be able to lean in and kiss Jay’s cheek, if he actually thought that would make Jay feel better or at least make him smile. 

“Thanks for coming, man,” Josh says, appearing behind them and startling Mike, who nods and takes this as his cue to get lost. 

Mike is almost to the front door, back in the dark zen-garden foyer, when Jay chases him down. Jay is red-faced and definitely drunk, that cowlick hanging over his forehead again. He runs up to Mike like he’s thinking about touching him, too, but stops short of doing so and clamps his lips together, exhaling through his nose and staring up into Mike’s eyes.

“Hey, um,” Jay says, like they just ran into each other on the street. “Come over tomorrow, okay? Whenever you can. I’m free all day, uh. I think we should sign the contracts and start writing a script. Just sleep on it first, and then, yeah. If you still want to, tomorrow--”

“I’ll still want to,” Mike says, and he feels himself wanting to sway toward Jay. He makes his heels stay planted and keeps his arms pressed tight against his sides, resisting the corresponding impulse to reach for Jay’s waist. It just feels so familiar, already, having him near and wanting him closer. 

“You sure?” Jay asks, his voice trembling a little. “It’s gonna be-- Mike. So fucking weird.”

“So fucking weird is our brand, Jay.”

Jay blinks a few times, then smiles, flushing. 

“Yeah,” he says. “True.” 

“Don’t worry,” Mike says, whispering. He wonders if Josh is listening from around the corner for Jay’s sake, because like Simon’s lockdown palace of an apartment Josh has clearly been tasked with protecting Jay, his presence adding an extra level of emotional security. “I’m gonna-- It’s gonna be all right,” Mike says, no longer whispering, not caring if Josh hears him promise this. That will make it more real, maybe. Having a witness. 

Jay opens his mouth, then shuts it and just nods. 

“Thanks for coming,” he says. 

“I’ll be back tomorrow,” Mike says. “We’ll write this son of a bitch together and blow all those L.A. fuckers away.”

Jay snorts, and seems restored to himself by Mike’s pretense of confidence, his muggy eyes clearing a little. 

“I love the idea of them underestimating us, actually,” Jay says. “Like, everyone thinking of this as just a gimmick about your dick going in my ass again after all these years, but then flipping out when we give them something actually good.”

“Yes, fuck,” Mike says, exhaling both words in a way that is perhaps too heated, and too close to Jay’s face, because he’s let himself sway closer now. “That’s-- Yes, exactly. God, I can’t wait to make something with you again, actually. That’s my dark secret.”

Jay moves away, and Mike feels rejected, but supposes he deserves it. He needs to dial it back a little, or a lot. 

“I’ll text you tomorrow,” Jay says. “Are you shooting anything, or--”

“Nope, totally open.”

Mike regrets that this is true. He’s an open book, heart on his sleeve, dick twitching in his pants because he caught a whiff of Jay’s hair product or sweat or some goddamn thing, doesn’t matter what, he’s into it because it’s Jay’s and he’s so screwed that he doesn’t even care anymore. 

“Come over at two,” Jay says, with the air of someone who can order Mike to do whatever he wants. Mike wonders if that means he’s extra fucked or just that Jay is, too. 

“Yep,” Mike says, barely resisting the urge to wink. “G’night.”

He’s in a cloud of conflicting feelings all the way down to the lobby and on the walk to his car, and it lasts for the whole drive home, too, twisting in his stomach and clawing at his heart as it rattles in his chest, which is still beating fast when he walks into his apartment. Part of him feels uplifted, hopeful, relieved. Another part, which keeps overwhelming all the good, is drowning in unbearable sorrow bordering on self-hating rage, because Jay has been doing work he doesn’t like for years, just for the money. Mike can relate, but he’s not on camera, not being stalked, not so alone with it that he’s willing to work with the asshole who got him into this mess in the first place just so he can finally get out of it. 

Mike stretches out in bed and makes himself think of what Rich would say, because it’s too late to actually call him. He would remind Mike that Jay was just as into the dirty movies they made back then as Mike was, and oftentimes was the one dragging Mike into riskier, more hardcore stuff, such as involving Lance. Jay was also the one who ended everything, stranding himself in eventual webcam-land. Mike would have done anything for him, and Jay knew it. He didn’t want Mike’s anything, by the end. That he wants it now doesn’t necessarily mean that he wasn’t serious when he said he wants to make something good with Mike. Jay is desperate, sure, but he didn’t seem even a little hateful or angry toward Mike, and maybe he’s just matured or something. 

Mike’s phone dings, and his calming heartbeat zooms back into overdrive when he mistakes it for a text from Jay, then again when he realizes what it really is: a notification for an update on Jay’s YouTube channel. 

It feels a thousand times weirder to spy on Jay this way after having just seen him in person, though Mike supposes this doesn’t qualify as spying anymore, since Jay essentially asked his permission before doing this broadcast. It’s still surreal to open the video and see Jay wearing the same outfit he had on when Mike left Simon’s place. The title of the video is ‘BIG ANNOUNCEMENT!’, and when Mike plays it he can see how Jay has tried to make whatever room he’s filming in from Simon’s place look as much like the bedroom he shot in at his apartment before relocating, so his viewers won’t catch the location change. Mike notices it now only in subtle details: the shadows are different, the sheets are the same but there’s a fancier headboard on the bed now. 

“Hey guys,” Jay says, speaking into the camera. It’s not a livestream, so Jay must have recorded this as soon as Mike walked out the door. “I’m a little drunk and sleepy so it’s probably not a great idea to do this right now, but I guess I’m too excited to keep it to myself anymore. I’ll do a better video tomorrow with more details, and in the meantime I just wanted to tell you all that it’s looking like I’m gonna be in a feature length movie soon. And yeah, it’s that kind of movie. And guess who’s directing? You never will! ‘Cause it’s my ex-partner. Yes, that ex-partner. So all you MikeNJay fans out there are actually going to get new content that we’re both working on. We’re signing contracts soon, and after we have those in place I’ll be able to give you more info, but I just wanted to say that I’m really excited about this project, and really happy to be able to work with Mike again, and that I can’t wait to tell you all more about it as it comes together. So that’s it for now, and I’ll do a Q&A later this week. Okay, goodnight, more soon!”

Jay waves to the camera, smiles, and Mike knows it’s not the case, but it seems so much like Jay is looking right at him, doing this for him, speaking only to him, that he smiles and waves back, feeling like an idiot and a delusional stalker, but also like maybe this is going to somehow, possibly, maybe be okay.

*


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Excited to hear what people think about the developments in this chapter ... !! Hope everyone is staying safe and had a good weekend <3
> 
> *

Mike sleeps restlessly that night and is awake by seven AM, staring at the ceiling in his bedroom and going over everything that happened at Simon’s apartment with the kind of fine-toothed mental comb that he should instead be applying to that contract with Under the Lake. He’s alternating between panic and giddy hope, back and forth at a nauseating pace that makes him feel dizzy even as he mostly stays still, sweating and kicking the blankets away. He’s half-hard just remembering the way Jay smelled when they stood close to each other at the stove and in that foyer, which is bad, but he can’t get properly aroused because he’s also torturing himself by remembering what Jay said about wanting out of the webcam life, and wanting Simon in the movie, and being stalked by someone whose name Mike really should have asked for, because he’d like to kill the guy and suspects he’d feel better if he at least kicked his ass. 

He’s not going to do that, and by nine o’clock it’s clear that he’s not going to be able to jerk off either. He makes the water in his morning shower on the cold side, eats a decent breakfast and takes his copy of the contract with Jocelyn’s notes out to the balcony to read it properly. He’s always been good at the business side of things, savvy and hard to fool, and he’s got to start acting like it when it comes to this deal or he might get screwed in more ways than one. He trusts Jocelyn’s analysis, also Josh’s, even Jay’s, but he really needs to read every word of this thing himself before he takes it over to Simon’s place and sits down with Jay to sign it. 

It’s hard to concentrate, but the alternative is spending every minute of the hours leading up to his meeting with Jay thinking about last night and wondering about how today will go, so he does what he can to put that out of his mind for five minutes at a time while reading through the contract. He doesn’t find any glaring issues but is bothered by a few things on a personal level: the stipulation that Jay has three partners who aren’t Mike in the movie, that both of Jay’s channels and Manhole Entertainment are required to market the material in addition to Under the Lake, and the insistence that they release never before seen material to package with the special edition DVDs of their series. That last requirement is something Mike has fantasized about doing before, for the excuse to obsessively pore over their old stuff with a good excuse if nothing else, but he rereads this part three times with an itchy, anxious feeling, telling himself over and over that there is no hidden loophole here that will require them to release their first time video. There’s nothing about specific additional material to be released whatsoever, but Mike still feels exposed by the thought that, among all the unreleased outtakes and half-starts of new series that never went far, there’s that video, too, and people know it exists. They’ll ask for it, and Jay and Mike can’t just ignore those kinds of requests anymore, if they’re also required to play nice and participate in the marketing push themselves. This doesn’t mean they’ll have to capitulate and release the video, and there’s nothing anybody could ever say or offer that would make Mike agree to do so, but just responding to people’s demands to see it is going to bother him, and he knows it’ll bother Jay even more. 

By lunchtime his nerves about seeing Jay again have returned and he has no appetite. The night of poor sleep is beginning to catch up to him, making him feel fuzzy-headed and sluggish despite his anticipation. He drinks a Red Bull, which doesn’t help with the nerves, and feels newly awake by the time he’s getting in the car with the contract, his laptop, and one of the yellow notepads he normally uses for drafting in the initial idea stages. Jay used to tease him for being so attached to handwritten drafts. Pulling out onto the highway, heart in his throat, he wonders if Jay will laugh when he sees the notepad, and how much stale fondness for Mike’s quirks might be involved if he does. 

The morning was overcast, but the clouds are clearing when Mike inputs the parking garage code and is again allowed access to Simon’s building. He parks, gathers his things, and tells himself not to expect to find Jay alone upstairs. Jack might be there, or Simon himself. Mike climbs out of the car and instructs himself not to get his feelings hurt if that’s the case. He can hardly blame Jay for not wanting to be alone up there after what he went through, whatever it was. Mike still doesn’t know the details and isn’t sure he’d be able to handle them yet, on top of everything else. 

There’s a different security guard on staff, and he gives Mike the same suspicious, distasteful look when checking his ID, then calls up to the penthouse and confirms that Jay is expecting Mike, despite the fact that Mike’s name is on the approved visitor list, hence the goddamn ID check. When Jay tells him yes, the guy leads Mike to the elevator and activates the penthouse floor with his keycard.

“Have a _great_ day,” Mike says, with bitter sarcasm. He realizes as the elevator doors close that he should probably be nice to these guys. He could potentially be here a lot in the coming weeks and months. The thought makes his heart ascend along with the elevator as it carries him in a graceful glide to the uppermost floor. 

When the elevator doors open, the penthouse looks different than it did during even the early evening. It’s filled with sunlight now, the water feature that lines the foyer still burbling happily away and the plants growing from the walls looking more cheery, less creepy. Jay appears to greet him with a sheepish smile, wearing jeans and a tight red JACK BURTON’S TRUCKING CO. t-shirt. Mike has seen it on Jay before, embarrassingly, in his YouTube videos. He’s wearing socks again, and Mike wonders if shoes aren’t allowed in Simon’s pristine environs. Jay doesn’t ask Mike to take his off, anyway.

“Were they giving you a hard time?” Jay asks, stuffing his hands in the pockets of his jeans while Mike perks his ears up for any hint that they have additional company today. “Downstairs, I mean?”

“Oh-- Yeah, sorta. I guess I can’t blame them. I do have that dangerous loner vibe.” 

“You do not,” Jay says, laughing a little, though it wasn’t really funny. He seems to be in an ingratiating, sunny mood again, and Mike knows that shouldn’t surprise him, since the contracts still aren’t signed. Jay will be on his best behavior until Mike is legally obligated to go through with this, maybe. “C’mon,” Jay says, tilting his head to invite Mike inside. “You want something to eat? Drink?”

“Nah,” Mike says. He never drinks when he’s writing. Jay knows that. But maybe he just meant, like, a glass of water. “So where’s Simon?” Mike asks, searching the wide-open rooms for any sign of him as he follows Jay inside. 

“Didn’t I tell you? He’s in L.A., working on his next movie. It’s about a haunted boarding school. The hottest guy gets possessed by a demon and starts seducing and murdering everybody else.” Jay turns back to Mike and shrugs, wrinkling his nose. “I thought the script was dumb, but. Don’t tell him I said that.” 

“I don’t exactly Skype with Simon these days,” Mike says, wounded by the information that Simon shows Jay his scripts. They must be pretty close, friends who just sometimes hook up or not. Mike probably should have worked that out from the fact that Simon is letting Jay stay in his Milwaukee penthouse, but the script thing feels more intimate and worrying. Though he really can’t and shouldn’t be worrying about that shit. 

“So, um,” Jay says, hands going into his pockets again. They’re standing in the dining area, near the table where they ate last night, its polished surface gleaming so brightly that Mike is squinting a little from the glare. “You, uh. Good with this, still? The contract, and, just. Everything?”

“Everything,” Mike says, nodding. “I ain’t afraid of no ghosts.” 

“Ghosts?” 

“You and me, the ghost of, you know-- Never mind.”

Jay rolls his eyes, but he smiles after he has. 

“You want to go ahead and sign, then?” he says. “And let Gil know we have?” 

So Mike was right about Jay being in a hurry to get this nailed down. Hmm.

“Sure,” Mike says, lifting one shoulder. “It all looks good to me, just. Are you sure you’re okay with, uh. Doing scenes with three different guys, after all this time? Even outside of the me thing, like. I don’t know your life, obviously, but as far as I can tell you haven’t done anything except solo stuff since, you know. Our stuff.”

“It’s fine,” Jay says. “They don’t specify what has to happen between me and the other guys, only what me and you have to do together. So I could just make out with the other actors and still fulfill the contract.”

“Oh-- True.” Why didn’t Mike think of that? “Yeah, that’s a good plan.”

“I mean, it would make for a lame porno, but--”

“No, because the main point is me and you.”

Mike said that too forcefully. As if he gets to decide who touches Jay, and how. Jay just blinks at him for a moment, then nods and turns for the kitchen. The contract is still on the kitchen island, near the place where Josh sat the night before. 

Mike follows Jay toward it, slowly beginning to accept that they’re alone here together, though the legal paperwork somehow makes this feel less true. He stands close to Jay at the kitchen island, staring down at the contract while Jay thumbs through it idly. Jay smells even better today, freshly showered.

“Is it gonna be weird for Simon to watch me fucking you?” Mike asks.

“Why would he be on set when we shoot that?”

Mike snorts, then wishes he hadn’t. Jay is flushed when they lock eyes again, and frowning. 

“You don’t need him there for moral support or whatever?” Mike asks, muttering. “I thought that was the whole deal.”

“That’s not the deal at all. He’s just-- Whatever, he’s my friend and he wants to be a part of this, and having one of my friends do this with me is-- Comforting, sure, but he’s a busy guy and he’s only going to be on set for his own scenes. And, Mike. I told you. He’s not my boyfriend. He’s not going to bat an eye at me getting fucked by someone else. Not even you.” 

“Mhm,” Mike says, trying not to fixate on the fact that Jay just referred to Simon as his friend in a way that implies Mike isn’t. It would be insane to get upset about this, because they are categorically not friends, but-- Still. “Okay then,” Mike says, patting the empty breast pocket on his shirt theatrically. “You got a pen?”

Jay finds one, and they both sign and date the contract. Mike feels a heaviness in his chest while doing so, more because he can hear the sudden quickness of Jay’s breath than because of any personal feelings of gravity. They’re standing close, doing this together. Mike looks up and holds Jay’s gaze when their names are both down on paper, and tries not to swoon when Jay stares up at him with what looks like gratitude and nervous hope. 

“Obviously it’s not official until we put it in Gil’s hands,” Jay says, breaking eye contact and digging out his phone. “I’ll text him and tell him it’s ready to pick up.” 

“You’re going to summon Gil here?” Mike says, spirits sinking.

Jay snorts and looks at him like he’s crazy.

“Hell no,” he says. “He’s got to drive in from Chicago again. I figure we can meet him somewhere later. I, uh. It’s not like I think he’d intentionally do anything evil with the information, but I really don’t want him knowing where I’m staying. He’s not discreet.”

“That’s a fucking understatement,” Mike says. “And smart.” 

Approximately two seconds after Jay has sent a text to Gil saying the contract is signed and ready for pickup, his phone rings. Jay groans and makes a face at Mike, lifting his eyebrows as if to ask for Mike’s permission to ignore the call. It settles low in Mike’s gut, that begging thing in Jay’s eyes, though maybe he’s just imagining it. 

“Better pick up,” Mike says. “Sorry to say it, but signing this thing means we’re gonna have a lot of conversations with Gil in the days ahead.”

“Jesus,” Jay mutters, but he answers the call, sighing. “Hi, Gil,” he says, putting his phone on speaker and holding it up between his face and Mike’s in a way that Mike struggles not to find sweet. They’re in this together now, for real. 

“Jay!” Gil bleats, causing Jay to wince away and adjust the volume. “And Mike! Is Mike there? Is that what I’m to gather from this bombshell of a text?”

“I’m here,” Mike says, deadpan. “Where should we meet you to hand off the signed copy?”

“Meet me-- Ha! Oh my god, okay, what’s the appropriate venue, I wonder? Something classy, something where you celebrate momentous, life-changing occasions--”

“I don’t have time for anything like that tonight,” Jay says, making Mike remember how great it always felt to be on the right side of Jay’s dismissive snottiness, and how shitty it was to be the one being dismissed by it. “I was thinking a bar in the downtown area, or Jocelyn’s law office, if you can get here this afternoon.”

“Sadly I cannot make it before about six o’clock, maybe seven if the traffic sucks. But! A bar, yes! Mike, maybe you can advise, what’s a good locale for this meeting of the three amigos?”

“Gil, listen to me,” Mike says, leaning in toward Jay’s phone. Jay holds it closer to Mike’s face: helpfully, adorably. “If I hear you call us the three amigos again? Ever, in any context? This deal is off. I will hand write this provision into the contract right now if I need to.”

Gil does an obnoxiously overdramatic fake laugh at this. Mike glances up to make sure Jay actually thinks that was funny. Jay is smiling, eyes bright. 

And god that feels so good, Jay’s co-signing approval of Mike’s joke-- So good it immediately hurts, too.

“Fine, fine,” Gil says. “Noted! So? Where shall we meet?”

Mike gives him the name of a dumpy bar that is everything L.A. isn’t, where they won’t be able to find a table or even three seats together at the bartop at that time of the evening, which will negate any attempt Gil makes to turn this into a real outing and not just a contract handoff. Gil says that works and he’ll meet them there at seven. He asks them to scan a copy of the signed contract to him in the meantime. Jay says they will and hangs up on Gil when he’s in mid-word, saying something about how this movie is going to change the world.

“I love that you’re still a dick to him,” Mike says, unable to help himself, though he knows he should keep the words ‘I love’ out of his mouth when he’s talking about Jay. 

“Did you think I’d be kissing his ass?” Jay asks, looking offended.

You’ve kind of been kissing mine, Mike wants to say. So stranger things have happened. 

“I just--” Mike stammers instead, reduced to nervous queasiness by that little pinch between Jay’s eyebrows. It’s unfortunate that Jay’s ‘I’m angry because you’re not taking me seriously, Mike’ face is still extremely cute. “I don’t know, uh. Can I ask a weird question?”

Jay groans and crosses his arms over his chest, also nods.

“Trust me,” Jay says when Mike still hesitates. “I know there’s no way to work around the weirdness. We’ve got to just waltz straight through it if we’re gonna do this, so. What?”

“Do you feel like you still know me?” Mike asks, before he can lose his nerve. “I mean. If you, uh. Know what I mean?”

“I’m not sure I do,” Jay says. He’s holding Mike’s gaze but also looking cagey, startled, like he already regrets inviting Mike’s weirdness. “I mean-- Not sure I understand the question, like. What-- How so?”

“Just, uh.” 

Mike feels flustered, unable to explain, and wishes he’d saved this for later. Maybe saving anything is pointless, because there are no easy entry points with him and Jay. Every glance and word is a potential landmine, and god, when they have to touch each other-- Mike can’t even fathom how they’re going to get through that without combusting, at least not yet. 

“When you look at me,” Mike says, “Do you see this fat, middle-aged stranger who’s got nine years of history that you don’t know much about? Or do you see someone you know?”

“Someone I know,” Jay says, answering this so easily that Mike is almost offended, because Jay didn’t really think about it and Mike still isn’t sure about his own answer, entirely. “Oh, is this-- Because I look different?” Jay sniffs and squares his shoulders. “You don’t recognize me, is that what you’re saying?”

“No-- No!” Mike has had six years worth of watching Jay’s videos to get used to his new look, but he’s not going to bring that up now, or ever. “I do, I see-- Both, kinda. The Jay I know-- Knew, um. And this new you, too. Never mind, uh. Stupid question, anyway.”

“No, I know-- I get it.” Jay uncrosses his arms and looks away. “That’s why what I’m about to suggest is going to sound outlandish at first, but also makes sense, I think, if we’re going to get to a place where we can actually do a worthwhile scene together on camera.”

“What you’re-- What now?”

“I think we should spend the afternoon brainstorming ideas for the feature,” Jay says, flushed again. He also looks annoyed, as if Mike has already rejected whatever he’s about to propose. “Because coming up with a good idea for that is going to be the hardest part, and we need to do it fast so we can get pre-production started on this insane time table.”

“Agreed,” Mike says, waiting for the outlandish part. 

“So, um. Well, just follow me. I want to show you something.”

Mike trails Jay through the penthouse, trying not to ogle the perfectly accented hugeness of the place. He wonders if some of the closed doors that they pass are locked to Jay, and if one of them is the guest room where Jay has been staying, if he was careful to shut up his private space before Mike got here. Or, worse: Jay could be sleeping in Simon’s bed. 

“Whoa,” Mike says when they arrive at what seems to be the far end of the penthouse, the narrow hallway they came through opening into a large, sunny room with a weight bench, treadmill, and exercise bike, plus other equipment. The walls are lined with some kind of bamboo-like wood that makes the place look like a dojo, and between the floor to ceiling windows on the far war are a pair of sliding glass doors that lead out to the balcony that lines the whole east-facing side of the penthouse, overlooking the lake view. Most impressive is a large hot tub built into the floor on the other side of the room, its surface steaming invitingly. 

“Yeah,” Jay says, hands in his pockets again as he looks in the direction of the hot tub. “This place is insane. I guess he got a good deal on it since it’s, you know, Milwaukee.”

Mike wants to argue that Milwaukee is not that cheap, though he supposes it is compared to L.A., and also wants to ask why Simon keeps a place here at all. He’s afraid he knows the answer to that second question: because Jay is here, and Jay is Simon’s long game. He had his eye on Jay even back in college, when Jay was glued to Mike’s side in a way they all assumed was permanent back then. Now Jay is a free agent, and a hook up here and there, a luxury penthouse for his use, promises of more prestigious work out in L.A., probably-- Mike can see it all clearly, and the only piece of the puzzle he can’t work out is why Jay hasn’t ridden off into the sunset with Simon already. It would solve all of Jay’s financial problems without the need to suck Mike’s dick on camera, for one. 

“Soo, you’re telling me I need to work out?” Mike says, patting his belly when Jay just stares at him, looking newly nervous.

“What-- No.” Jay frowns, sighs. “You’re gonna tell me I’m crazy, but if you think about it for a minute you’ll see that I’m right.” 

“About what?” Mike asks, afraid they’re still talking about his less than perfect physique. 

“That we should do this in there,” Jay says, pointing to the hot tub. “Naked.”

“This-- Do what now?”

“The brainstorming, talking about our feature ideas, just. Talking.”

Mike feels like he’s being pranked, scans the corners of the room for cameras. 

“Mike,” Jay says, recapturing his gaze, cheeks blazing. “You’re going to have to fuck me in like, a couple of months. And I’d rather not have to do a dozen clumsy takes with everyone watching. We need to start getting over whatever fucked up hurdles we have about the past right now, and not leave it as this tense mystery of how it’s gonna feel. This is part of our job, okay? In a way that I’m not sure you’re really thinking about yet. You're talking about how I haven't sucked dick on camera in nine years? Fine, fair, I haven't. But you haven't even been naked in front of a camera for nine years, and before I email that paperwork to Gil, I need to know you can handle at least this.”

Mike stares for a moment, dumbfounded, then hears the condescending challenge in Jay’s suggestion. He’s saying Mike can’t handle this? Oh, fuck him. He’ll see.

“Sure,” Mike says, starting to unbutton his shirt. “Makes sense to me. Let’s do it. Should I go grab my notepad?”

“Notepad?” Jay says, looking lost again as he watches Mike opening his shirt. 

“Because we’re going to be brainstorming ideas while we’re naked in the hot tub together, yeah?”

Mike can’t believe he’s saying this, doing this, that any of this is happening, but his cock feels kind of hopefully awake to the circumstances already, and his skin is starting to tighten and sing at the thought of being naked with Jay even like this, especially because it was Jay’s idea, and because they’re going to be talking about making movies together, the way they used to in bed at night, half-asleep after fucking or as a kind of foreplay. He’s more excited about that than anything, maybe perversely.

“Right, but-- We don’t need the notepad yet,” Jay says when he’s gathered his thoughts. He watches Mike shrug his shirt off and reaches for the hem of his own t-shirt as Mike starts to pull his thin undershirt off, too. “We’ll just, um, talk ideas first.” 

Jay doesn’t even pretend not to stare at Mike’s bare chest once he’s shirtless. Mike stares right back when Jay shucks his t-shirt, smirking at Jay’s perfectly smooth skin, his compact muscles that are just soft enough to look biteable, and those sweet little nipples that have been in Mike’s mouth more times than he can count, hard and perky for Mike’s stare even in the slightly humid warmth of this home gym. 

“Are you sure you can handle this, Jay?” Mike asks, unable to resist teasing him as he unzips his jeans. If he pretends he’s got this all under control, maybe Jay will believe him. 

“Handle what?” Jay asks, his eyes darting up to Mike’s again. “Seeing your cock?”

“Mhmm, well, yeah.”

“I think I can control myself, Mike.” 

Jay turns his back on Mike and walks toward the hot tub as he unzips his own jeans. Mike follows, feeling deliciously predatory. He kicks off his shoes and steps out of his jeans on the way toward the hot tub, trailing Jay and marveling at not nervous he feels. It’s because Jay framed this as something Mike might be too soft and emotional to agree to, probably. That was how Jay always got Mike to do anything, all of it.

Mike watches Jay pull his jeans off, ogling Jay’s ass in a pair of black briefs that cling to him perfectly and surely were chosen by Jay this morning for the purpose of making his ass look great for Mike’s eyes. Mike’s dick is more than a little excited when Jay turns to show him his flushed throat and cheeks. Jay pulls his socks off one at a time while Mike watches, and smirks when he sees the slight bulge in Mike’s boxers.

“Yeah, laugh it up,” Mike says, not really minding. “You’re hot and you know it.” 

“Ugh,” Jay says, as if he doesn’t fucking love hearing this, and he pushes his briefs down, letting Mike stare. 

“Good to know you’re still an exhibitionist lunatic,” Mike says, staring at Jay’s heartbreakingly familiar dick. Mike has fucking missed it, jesus. Jay is mostly but not entirely soft for this stunt, more neatly groomed than he looked last time Mike saw him on a webcam show, and just as mouth-wateringly thick and pretty as Mike remembers, even soft. Jay adjusts himself and clears his throat, raising his eyebrows to indicate Mike had better follow suit. 

“You’re blushing,” Mike says, shoving his boxers down and smirking as if his face isn’t hot, too. His face-flush tends to be more subtle, at least. 

“Imagine that,” Jay mutters, and he turns toward the wall, opens a discreet panel in the wood-lining and presses a button inside that turns on the jets in the hot tub. Mike stares at Jay’s ass and resists the impulse to even gently adjust his dick, afraid that would bring on the full erection that he’s hoping to hide under the water. With the jets churning up the water as vigorously as they currently are, they won’t be able to see each other’s laps, thank god.

Jay gets in first, and Mike follows suit, settling in on the opposite side and facing him directly. There’s a tile-lined bench under the water that runs around the entire tub, and when they’re seated on it, staring at each other from across the cauldron of bubbling water, there’s a good four feet of space between them across the center of the tub. Just the heat of the water makes Mike fully hard almost right away, and the daring heat in Jay’s eyes is doing things to him, too. 

“Who does your waxing now?” Mike asks, figuring being a smart ass is as good a place to start as any. 

“A professional,” Jay says icily. 

“Mhm, so you got over your shyness about that, huh?”

“It wasn’t--” Jay scoffs and looks away, at the sliding doors, the balcony. His eyelashes are especially gold in the sunlight, glowing. “Yeah, I guess so, Mike.”

When they were together, Mike would do the waxing for him before they shot a video. He got pretty good at it, and Jay got off on the pain anyway, when Mike was still a beginner. Jay would get so hard, lying there with his skinny chest heaving while Mike put the wax on him, and he’d be breathing even harder after Mike had pulled it off, would lose his mind for the feeling even when Mike learned how to do it more painlessly. It wasn’t just the pain that got Jay off, it was the feeling of Mike tending to him, getting his body ready as part of the scene Mike had crafted, or so Mike assumed while he got off on it in a big way, too. 

Jay would be moaning by the time Mike was finished, nipples and dick hard, sometimes begging Mike to fuck him. Mike never gave in. He always insisted on waiting twenty-four hours so that the raw skin around Jay’s hole wouldn’t get irritated by Mike’s dick. Mike would either blow Jay, or if he was really wound up by that feeling of completely owning Jay’s body and doing whatever he wanted with it, he’d straddle Jay’s hips and ride his dick while Jay whimpered and lay there taking it, trying not to come when Mike told him he couldn’t, not yet. 

They never fucked like in their movies. It made Jay too vulnerable. The way he got when he was underneath Mike but also inside him, overwhelmed and usually failing to last more than a minute or two even when Mike did everything he could to make it last, was for Mike’s eyes only. Jay never looked or felt more completely dominated and helpless than he did when Mike rode him like that, leering down at him and taking what he wanted. Jay would get so wibbly and lost for it, and even looked physically smaller than he did when he was the one gritting his teeth and taking it hard, being a tough guy who just asked for more while Mike railed him. Jay was not infrequently a sobbing mess after he came in Mike’s ass, begging Mike’s forgiveness for not being able to last longer. He’d lie there trembling like a broken little thing while Mike kissed him and told him it was okay. Then Mike would sit back to pump his cock and unload all over Jay’s jittery chest, marking him. 

It was special to them also because that was how it had been the first time they ever did it, or anything, on that video they recorded by accident.

“You’re over there thinking about the past,” Jay says while Mike just stares at him, breathing harder for how full and heavy his dick feels under the water. “I can tell.”

“Imagine that,” Mike says, pleased when his voice doesn’t sound strained, thereby giving nothing away. He stretches his arms out on the rim of the hot tub and sighs, fake relaxed. “This feels good,” he says, dangerously or to mock Jay, he isn’t sure. “Good idea.”

“Yeah,” Jay says. He looks down at the surface of the water and back up into Mike’s eyes, jabbing Mike right in the heart with that pleading, searching look of his, the one he gives Mike when he needs direction. Mike has to wonder if anyone else has ever seen it, really. He suppresses a sneer when he wonders if Simon, fellow director who Jay has definitely blown, has ever seen that look on Jay’s face, or anything close.

“So,” Mike says, before he can let his mind wander too far down that path. “Movie ideas.” 

“Right,” Jay says. He slumps his shoulders a little and shakes his head. “I don’t even know where to start.”

“Why not with the obvious?” Mike asks, pleased to have this cue to take the lead. “Sid and Dex, ten years later. Where are they now.”

“No,” Jay says, so firmly that Mike is a little hurt. “That’s-- No, I don’t want to do that.”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s too obvious, like you said. It’s lazy.”

Mike feels like that’s probably not the real reason. He shrugs, having kind of expected that response from Jay, just not so passionately. Sid and Dex are like an old wound for both of them, and Jay is right. It’s best left unopened. 

“Okay,” Mike says, “Fine, sure. Last night you were saying you wanted Simon to play some kind of villain who my guy rescues you from. We could start from that.” 

“Mhm,” Jay says. He’s staring at the wall of sunlit windows again, seems rattled. 

“Can Simon even act?” Mike asks, chasing Jay’s attention. 

“What-- Yeah.” Jay frowns a little and looks at Mike again. “You’ve seen his movies. The old ones, I mean, when he was in them.” 

“Yeah. Okay, so. What kind of villain is he capable of playing, do you think?”

“Some kind of mastermind, like a doctor or a scientist.”

Mike resists the urge to roll his eyes. 

“Good,” he says instead, sharply. “So, in contrast, my guy would be, like, a schlub with street smarts. Like a truck driver or a construction worker or something.” 

Jay grins like he enjoys the mental image, which is enough to make Mike want to jot that down on the notepad he didn’t bring in here, though it’s not like he’ll have a hard time remembering.

“Then who’s my guy?” Jay asks. 

“Jay, obviously you’re the twinky damsel in distress here.”

“Yeah, but-- First of all, I’m almost forty and you can wax me all you like but I’m no twink. And don’t even think about asking me to shave my beard, Mike.”

Mike laughs hard, bringing his hand up to cover his mouth, then harder when Jay gives him a petulant, red-faced staredown. Jay only cracks the tiniest smile and shakes his head when Mike can’t stop laughing. 

“I’m serious!” Jay says, splashing him. “Stop.”

“No, I’m-- Yeah, no, I won’t make you shave. Aw, Jay. You were worried about that.” 

Jay glowers and flings water in Mike’s direction again. 

“Hmm, so you’re, well-- Here’s what I’m thinking,” Mike says. “With that beard and your current look, you have a kind of day trader jock energy.”

“Eugh,” Jay says, recoiling. “I do not.” 

“Yeah, you do-- Maybe that’s not precise enough, but you look like a squeaky clean little corporate servant who goes to the gym after work and counts calories and always insists on a condom when he invites some bigger, dirtier guy over to fuck him.”

“Christ,” Jay mutters, sinking lower into the water, so that his still-hard nipples are below the surface. “Corporate servant?”

“That’s the damsel in distress element, maybe. You’re a hardworking guy stuck at the middle of some company ladder, getting slammed with work bullshit, and you’re having some kind of problem. Stress, how’s that? Maybe you can’t get it up-- Ooh! Okay-- Maybe your guy thinks he’s straight, and he’s been fucking women all his life, but suddenly he can’t get it up for them. So he goes to some doctor-- Simon. And he’s like, doc, help me out.”

“Sure,” Jay says, looking skeptical but interested. “And he, what? Takes advantage somehow?”

“Exactly!” Mike is almost bouncing in his seat, fucking loves this feeling. It was never the same without Jay as his audience while he came up with ideas, scenes, dialogue. “Simon either thinks this poor little sap is actually gay and in denial, or if we want to go real tacky, dirty porn-style, he thinks he can turn your guy gay with some device or method he’s invented.”

“That is a thing in porn,” Jay says, nose wrinkling. “The supposedly straight guy going reluctantly gay until he’s suddenly all in and a huge slut for cock.”

“Yes, Jay,” Mike says, his voice tightening a little when his dick throbs under the water. “I know that’s a thing in porn. I’m in porn, as you may know.” 

Jay sighs. “It’s not the kind of stuff we used to do,” he says, muttering.

“Uhh, Dude Bros? Was exactly that?”

“No-- Well, my guy was in huge denial, he wasn’t-- Never mind, fine. I’m okay with this so far, and I think Simon would be good as an evil doctor. But what’s he doing to me to make me crave cock or whatever?”

Mike clears his throat, almost ready to beg Jay to stop saying phrases like ‘crave cock’ and ‘slut for cock’ because jesus if Mike comes in Simon’s hot tub he’ll die of shame. 

“Hypnotism,” Mike says, shrugging one shoulder. “Why not go with a classic? Maybe your guy even consents to be hypnotized, and while he’s under, Simon’s guy secretly trains him to be desperate for some dick.”

“That could work.” 

Jay stretches his arms out along the rim of the tub in the same way Mike has, exposing his nipples again. They’re soft from being under the hot water, then quickly stiff again when exposed to the air. Jay smirks when Mike meets his eyes, indicating that he caught Mike staring at his chest. Mike figures it doesn’t matter. They’re naked together in a fucking hot tub. They’re going to have to get hard for each other for work, soon. Might as well not pretend it doesn’t work off camera, too. Mike has always loved Jay’s chest: when he was rail thin, when he was chubby and had the most adorable little tits Mike had ever seen on anyone, and now, too. Doesn’t matter what his chest looks like, really. It’s where Jay keeps his heart. 

“So where does my guy come in?” Mike asks, hoping to wipe that smug look off of Jay’s face. 

“I guess my guy goes cruising or something,” Jay says. “And he has like, a random hook up, or at least the start of one, and he’s all overcome and shocked by how much he liked it, and when he goes looking for more he finds your guy, um. If you’re like a construction worker type, you could have the whole getup on, hard hat and everything. Is that too corny?”

“I could make it work,” Mike says, picturing Jay in a well-fitting suit and tie, Mike’s costume dirty and rumpled in contrast. “Yeah, okay. We could do a construction site set. That’s easy enough. Your guy is wandering by, all distraught and crazed with lust, and he sees mine. Our guys hook up there, at the construction site, and mine’s the biggest dick you’ve ever seen, so--” 

Jay rolls his eyes.

“What!” Mike says, flinging water in Jay’s direction. “It is, isn’t it? You gonna try to tell me you found someone bigger, after me?”

The amusement sinks from Jay’s expression and he pulls his arms back into the water. 

“No,” Jay says, sourly. “Congratulations, Mike. You have the biggest dick of all, the biggest one in history, you win.”

“Thanks, I appreciate the acknowledgement.” 

Mike grins, desperate for Jay to smile just a little. He does, but only in his eyes, nose twitching. 

“So my guy really loves your dick,” Jay says, his eyes hardening as he says so, “And starts things with a few other random dudes he picks up, but he keeps coming back to your guy. And your guy is a complete asshole, okay? At first, like Sid was. And Ronnie. And the biker.”

Hearing Jay talk about Mike’s old characters deals a surprising blow. Mike tries to imagine sitting next to Jay at the computer and editing their old stuff, piecing it together like a reanimated corpse. It’s going to kill him, maybe. 

“Right,” Mike says, holding Jay’s stare and wishing he didn’t love how intense it is or how fucking real this feels already, because Jay has stripped him of his clothes and is pretty close to taking all of Mike’s other armor, too. Mike barely cares, almost wants him to. 

“It should be that kind of dynamic,” Jay says. “Like our old stuff-- Your guy starts off taunting me, calling me a slut, blah blah, and then he somehow gets wind of what the doctor character did to make me like this, like I can’t get enough and I’m hounding your guy five times a day to suck his dick--” 

“Yeah,” Mike says, and he feels himself leaning forward. He makes himself sit back and grips the edge of the tub behind him, holding on for dear life. 

“--And Simon’s guy is using me as a come dump, too, and your guy gets real possessive and makes the hypnotist undo his-- Spell, or whatever, and then when he has, maybe after your guy beats him up a little to give incentive, you’re not sure if I’m still going to want your dick anymore, and I’m trying to act like, maybe I won’t--”

“And that’s when you beg me to fuck you,” Mike says. “Like-- The whole time, in all these other scenes, you’ve just been sucking dick. You think you’re addicted to it, that’s what the hypnotist made you crave. Sucking it, specifically. But when he undoes his evil trick on you, that’s when you want me to fuck you stupid.”

“Mhm,” Jay says, nodding. His pupils have fattened. Mike would bet his whole two hundred and fifty thousand dollar payday that Jay is hard under the water, too, throbbing. 

“So,” Mike says, trying not to making his quickened breath too obvious. “We could do that. That’s one idea.” 

“I like it,” Jay says. “It gives a good excuse for me to just suck cock for most of the movie, or even just get started like I’m gonna and then run away in a panic, and then the big fuck scene at the end is significant beacuse my guy has never gotten fucked like that before. Yeah.” He looks away and drags a wet hand over his flushed face. “I should have brought some water bottles over,” he says, sneaking a look at Mike again. “They’re over there in that little fridge.” 

He points. Mike snorts, and Jay meets his eyes again.

“Are you telling me to go fetch you some water, Jay?” he asks. “Or offering to let me watch you do it?”

“Fuck off, neither.” Jay flicks some water at Mike, weakly. “Just, you look a little overheated, uh. Sweaty. If you want water, it’s there.” 

“How about towels?”

Jay points to a nearby wicker basket thing with a lid. Neither of them moves for it, or for the water. Mike’s mouth feels dry. He has no idea how he’s going to get out of this hot tub without showing Jay how hard he is. 

“It’s fun, isn’t it?” Mike says, tipping his head back a little and looking at Jay from beneath hooded eyes, trying to play it cool while he can. “Talking about ideas like this again. Did you miss it?”

“Yeah,” Jay says, soft but without hesitation. “It’s-- So boring, what I do. I mean, sometimes the questions are fun, when people actually engage with me or tell me my movie recommendations were good, or act like I have something interesting to say about sex work and what it feels like, uh. But six years of stripping on a webcam is just way too fucking dull.”

“I hate that you got stuck doing that,” Mike says, unable to hold it in. “I mean, since you’re not enjoying it,” he adds hurriedly when Jay’s eyes harden. Mike swallows a further comment about how he feels like it’s his fault. Jay doesn’t want to hear that.

“And I hate that you got stuck making boring, by the numbers porn,” Jay says. “Honestly? I’d rather be doing my thing. At least it’s just me making all the decisions and controlling the quality, and I don’t have to work with crappy actors or get funding from people who just want to churn out standard stuff that sells.” 

Mike could choose to be offended by that, but he’s actually kind of relieved. Last night, Jay seemed so down about how things turned out for him. It was a big part of why Mike couldn’t sleep. But Jay still has his pride, clearly, and the prickly ego Mike remembers.

“Fair enough,” Mike says, as mildly as he can. “I don’t put my heart into this work anymore, it’s true. Turns out doing so wasn’t that smart.”

Jay looks away and Mike feels terrible. He didn’t mean-- Or maybe he did. Jay is having fun, Mike can tell. He’s enjoying this, has probably been as desperate as Mike has to feel the way they did when they were younger, like: sure, they were making filth, but it was good filth, and it was good because they gave a damn. Jay ended all of it over some insecurity bullshit and a handful of bad decisions that were primarily his own, things he didn’t want to admit he regretted. Mike is allowed to be mad about it.

“Mike--” Jay says, voice soft, eyes averted, and when he turns toward Mike again his eyes go wide with shock.

It takes Mike a second to realize why, so hyperfocused on Jay that he didn’t really register the _beep-beep-beep_ noise in the distance as the sound of something happening out in the apartment that apparently shouldn’t be, because Jay is sitting up on his knees and staring at the open door that leads out to the hallway, looking panicked.

“What was that?” Mike asks, his heart starting to slam when he hears noises, too: footsteps, and a thunk like something being dropped onto the floor out in the kitchen or dining area. 

“I don’t-- I don’t know--” Jay says, frozen in what looks like terror, breathing hard. “What the fuck, Mike, what the fuck--”

“It’s okay,” Mike says, ready to kill for Jay if necessary, naked or not. “I’ll--”

“Jay?” someone calls, and it’s fucking Simon, of course.

Jay lets out a long breath and deflates, sinking back into the hot tub with relief. Mike is relieved that he’s not about to have to murder an intruder, but his sense of having narrowly escaped a bad situation quickly evaporates when Simon appears in the gym’s doorway, smiling warmly. His eyebrows shoot up when he sees Jay isn’t alone.

“Hey,” Jay says, sounding like nothing about Simon catching him and Mike naked in Simon’s hot tub together is reason for alarm. “What are you, uh-- You’re back already?”

“We had an incident on set last night,” Simon says, groaning. “I’ll tell you about it-- Ah, am I interrupting something?”

“No-- Oh-- Mike’s just-- We’re working--”

“This is a business meeting,” Mike says. “Hi.”

“Hi,” Simon says, and his renewed smile looks genuine. “I’ve heard about the big development, of course. You two working together.”

“We’re just going over ideas,” Jay says, the red creeping down from his cheeks onto his throat again. “I thought, you know--”

“I’ll leave you to it,” Simon says, holding up his hands. “Mike, good to see you. If you guys want, we could all have a drink together when you’re done. I brought back some special sake from L.A.-- That kind you liked, Jay.” 

“Oh-- Great, thanks. Yeah, we’re, uh. About ready to get out and write some stuff down, actually.”

“And it would be good if you joined us,” Mike says, though he hates the idea deeply, so much that his erection is finally wilting. Thinking someone had just broken into the apartment may have also had a lot to do with it, but Simon’s self-satisfied smile is going a long way toward killing the last of his arousal. “I hear you want to be in this thing,” Mike says, still having a hard time believing this. 

“Yeah, I thought it would be fun,” Simon says, like fucking on camera is no big deal. “You guys have an idea already?”

“We have a role for you and everything,” Mike says, wondering why Jay has gotten quiet. 

“Nice. Can’t wait to hear it. Okay, I’m gonna unpack. I’ll meet you guys out in the den when you’re ready.”

He leaves, and Mike’s sense of mortification solidifies. He glances at Jay, trying to gauge his mood. He seems rattled. 

“You okay?” Mike asks.

“Yeah, just-- Wasn’t expecting him back today.” Jay rubs a hand over his face, moaning under his breath in a way that makes Mike’s cock twitch back toward hardness, just a bit. 

“Kind of rude of him not to tell you he was coming,” Mike says, keeping his voice quiet. 

“He can come back to his own place whenever he wants, Mike.”

“Yeah, but you--” Mike doesn’t need to say it. He can see Jay’s understanding in the irritation on his face. You’ve been through something, Mike thinks, giving him a sympathetic look in answer. Some warning about a surprise entry to where Jay is staying would have been nice, even if the person entering it owns the place.

Jay gets out first. He’s not hard, and Mike tries not to take it personally. The shock of hearing someone come into the apartment suddenly was like a bucket of ice water even over Mike’s head, and Jay is still a little shaky when he hands Mike a towel. 

“I’m gonna go get dressed,” Jay says, gathering his clothes from the floor. “I’ll shut the door to give you some privacy.”

“Thanks,” Mike says. “Be right out.”

He actually takes his time, wandering naked around Simon’s fancy gym with the towel wrapped around his waist, trying to regain a sense of confidence after the humiliation of being caught naked in Simon’s posh penthouse. Maybe he should feel cocky instead, since Simon got an eyeful of Jay already wanting Mike naked right at the start of this thing, but Simon hadn’t seemed perturbed at all and now Mike just feels kind of weird and sad. He wasn’t ready for his time alone with Jay to end, for one. 

He tells himself he’ll get plenty more of it soon and dresses. When he goes out in the hallway he follows the sound of Jay’s voice in the distance and ends up in what he presumes is the den, an open but cozy space on the other side of the penthouse with couches and a gas fireplace that is turned off at present, a few bookcases and a single perfectly groomed bonsai tree in a glossy pot on the mantle over the fireplace. Simon and Jay are seated on the longest couch, which is upholstered in tight, matte black leather, all clean lines and square edges. It doesn’t look comfortable at all. 

Simon is discussing the mishap on his set. Mike isn’t interested. He walks over to the mantle and examines the little bonsai tree, imagining that it’s not dissimilar to Jay’s presence in this space: carefully groomed and contained, ornamental, a living thing that’s also a decoration, property of Simon. 

“I don’t know when we’re going to pick up again,” Simon says to Jay, sighing. “It’s a nightmare, all this over a sprained ankle. But I knew what I was getting into when I cast him, and it might blow over. Fingers crossed.”

“I hope so,” Jay says. “That really sucks.”

“Mike?” Simon says, calling him away from his dramatic brooding over the bonsai tree. “Some sake?” Simon asks, lifting a little bottle on the elegant coffee table, along with a tiny cup that makes Mike want to laugh, though he’s not so uncultured that he doesn’t know how sake is served. It just seems like such a lame and inefficient way to get drunk. 

Since it’s only three o’clock and he doesn’t plan on getting drunk, Mike accepts some sake and sits on the loveseat by the side of the couch where Jay is seated, now in sweatpants and a different t-shirt, his socked feet folded under him on the couch while he sips from his own sake cup. Mike has never seen him sit like that before, at least not with company. It’s a little weird, maybe. Submissive.

“Mike,” Simon says, leaning back to study him. “It’s seriously good to see you. I think you guys are going to make something awesome. So glad you’re doing this.”

“Your character is an evil hypnotist,” Mike blurts, not sure what else to say in response. “If you’re okay with that.”

“I’m sure it’ll be tasteful,” Simon says, grinning in a way that makes Mike want to tell him to shut up. Simon’s movies are supposedly high brow, though still explicit, full of sex and gore. Mike has always thought they’re overrated, and he reminds himself with pleasure of Jay’s comment about Simon’s current script being bad.

“We thought it’d be good to have you as the villain,” Jay says. “Since this whole thing is basically fan service for people who like the old stuff with me and Mike. So your character makes mine, uh, addicted to sucking dick, and Mike is the beneficiary of that until he saves me.”

“Perfect,” Simon says, laughing low in his chest. “That’s great. I love it.”

“You’re the beneficiary of it, too,” Mike says, needing to hear from Simon himself that he’s going through with this. “Obviously, I guess.” 

“Yeah, I figured,” Simon says. “I don’t mean to barge in on you guys and your thing, I just thought, well. We all met in the same place, same time, and I’m kind of part of the story. As a minor character, anyway,” he adds, shifting his annoyingly fond gaze to Jay.

“Are you nervous about being on camera again?” Jay asks, before Mike can.

“Not really,” Simon says. “I never had a problem with that side of it. It wasn’t the main draw for me, but it’s a bit of a thrill. How about you?” he asks, shifting his eyes to Mike. “Any nerves yet?”

“Not yet,” Mike says. “I’m sure it will be weird as fuck. I mean, not just-- You know, but. Me and Jay, ha. It’s kinda crazy.”

Mike gulps down the rest of his sake and averts his eyes after saying so. Maybe he shouldn’t be bringing this up with Simon. Jay is quiet, and he’s looking at nothing in particular when Mike peeks at him. 

“Yeah, man,” Simon says, sitting forward to pour himself a refill. “It’s wild. But when Jay told me it was happening, something seemed right about it. And that seems prescient, since you two are already working together in the buff, two days in.” 

“I told you,” Jay says, kicking his foot in Simon’s direction on the couch in a teasing, intimate way that Mike hates deeply. “You’re the one who said it was a good idea to start the exposure therapy right away.” 

“Exposure therapy?” Mike says, not sure if he’s more insulted by that terminology or by the fact that Jay fucking discussed this with Simon, though of course he did. Mike discussed it with Rich, also Candy. Doesn’t mean he wants to fuck either of them.

“Yeah,” Jay says, giving Mike a soft, don’t freak out look that Mike resents. “You know, like I said. We’ve got to get used to being like that around each other, just dash the mystery right away.”

“I completely agree,” Mike says. “So when do we practice fucking each other?”

He shouldn’t have said that, but he pretends not to know this and leans forward to pour himself more sake while Jay and Simon sit there in speechless shock.

Only it’s not speechless shock at all, apparently. When Mike sits back and dares a look at them, they both have mild, friendly expressions on their faces. Jay lifts one shoulder.

“Maybe a week or two before we shoot the scene?” he says. “What do you think?”

Mike feels like he’s been punched in the gut. Why, he can’t even say. No, wait, he can: because apparently Jay wants to practice getting fucked by him, eventually. 

“Uhh,” Mike says. He makes a winded, exasperated noise. “I guess I can’t even think about that yet, sorry. I’m not gonna-- Sit here and pretend it’s no big deal, Jay,” he adds, more sharply.

“Me either,” Jay says, his tone also sharpening. “That’s why I’m saying we need to do this stuff, off camera, ahead of time. I can’t even imagine waiting until we’re on set and just seeing what happens, jesus. I’m taking this seriously, Mike. Believe me.”

“You guys always had amazing chemistry,” Simon says, and for a second Mike remembers that he always liked Simon, because he seems sincere and is also saying so to help ease the tension. “I’m sure it’ll go great.” 

They talk more about the idea, and though Mike wishes Simon would go find something else to do he also has to admit that he has some good insights that are worth nothing. Mike uses his yellow notepad to take down a few things, and Jay brings his laptop out to type his own notes. Simon drinks most of the sake and then switches to beer. He seems a little drunk by the time Jay and Mike are getting ready to meet Gil. 

“Gil Hornblower,” Simon says, his head lolling back onto the sofa, expression grim. “That guy. I kinda wish he wasn’t involved.” 

“He’s fine,” Jay says. “I mean, he’s not, but he’s a means to an end and Mike and I know how to handle him.” 

Mike’s spirits soar at the mention of him and Jay knowing how to do something together, a thing which Simon doesn’t understand and needs to be told about. 

“I’m sure you do,” Simon says, reaching over to settle his hand on Jay’s knee, a gesture for which Mike hates him again instantly. “Just-- Be careful.”

“I can drop the contract off by myself,” Mike says, digging out his phone to check the time. “You don’t have to come, if you’d rather-- Stay here.”

“No, I need to get out into the real world for a second,” Jay says, and Simon’s hand finally slides away when Jay stands. “I’ll just put my jeans on and grab my shoes,” he says, tucking his laptop under his arm. “Be right back.” 

When he’s gone, Mike checks the sake bottle on the table, though he knows it’s empty. He walks over to the windows to admire the view as the light matures toward evening, the lake sparkling and sprawled out all the way to the horizon. He can feel Simon’s eyes on him, and pretends not to find the silence they sank into when Jay left the room uncomfortable.

“So crazy to see you and Jay together again,” Simon says. He grins when Mike turns. “It’s great, I mean.” 

“It’s been a long time,” Mike says. “Too long. We’re both stubborn, I guess. I should have--” He breaks off there and shakes his head. “Anyway. Better late than never.” 

“He’s such a good person,” Simon says. He turns his head to make sure Jay is still back at the end of the hallway, in his room, then meets Mike’s eyes again. “All I want to do is give him everything,” Simon says, sitting forward and lowering his voice. “But he won’t let me. Maybe you knew the feeling, once.”

Mike opens his mouth to respond, though he has no fucking idea what he wants to say. Before he can get a single word out, Jay reappears, dressed and ready to leave. 

Simon is opening another beer in the kitchen when they leave, Jay holding the signed contract and Mike with his laptop and notepad tucked against his chest. The elevator sinks two whole floors before Mike turns to Jay and blurts, feeling only a little bad about it:

“Simon was drunk.” 

“A little,” Jay says. He snorts and gives Mike a look. “You’re judgmental about that these days, huh?”

“No. Fucking-- Of course not. I’m telling you this because when you left the room he drunkenly told me that he wants to give you everything and that you won’t let him.”

“Oh god.” Jay groans. Mike can see the flush starting high on his cheeks, spreading. “He’s just-- Like you said, drunk. He needs to eat something.” 

“Well, you know what they say, Jay. In wine, the truth!”

Jay laughs for real at that and gives Mike a look. He doesn’t seem bothered by this information about Simon. Maybe he likes it, and doesn’t want Mike to know how much.

“Simon wants me to move to L.A. with him,” Jay says. 

The elevator doors open. Mike isn’t ready for this conversation to end, though he’s horrified by where it might go. 

“Are you going to?” Mike asks, hurrying after Jay as he leaves the elevator. 

“Probably not,” Jay says. He’s muttering, avoiding Mike’s burning stare. “He’s-- I like him, we’re-- Sorta compatible, but. Sometimes I feel like he thinks he can buy me.”

“I knew it!” Mike says, too loud, thinking of that bonsai tree. 

Jay stops walking, just short of the front lobby doors. He turns to Mike and looks deeply annoyed.

“Stay out of it,” Jay says, so sharply that Mike feels slapped.

“No,” Mike says, kind of as a joke. 

Jay shoves him lightly and starts walking toward the parking deck again, and it’s the best thing that’s happened to Mike in years, maybe: that brief, pushy touch, burning through the fabric of Mike’s shirt and sinking in against his skin as he jogs after Jay.

“I’ll stay mostly out of it,” Mike says when they’re in his car together, Jay buckling himself into the passenger seat. Jay gives him a sideways, warning look. “But, Jay. You’re right to be leery of people who think they can buy you. I know nobody ever could. If he doesn’t know that, he doesn’t know you, and doesn’t deserve you.”

“I know he doesn’t deserve me,” Jay says, looking straight ahead. He turns to smirk when Mike just stares at him, suddenly consumed with the terrifying certainty that Rich was right.

Mike is still in love with this impossible asshole. At least a little. It’s nothing he can’t handle or ignore. But it’s there, in the way he never knows what Jay will say or do or what the fuck he’s ever thinking. That’s the thing that kept Mike hooked for so long, no matter where loving it dragged him when he was tethered hopelessly to Jay’s maniac whims.

“Who ever could?” Mike asks in a jokey voice before breaking eye contact with Jay to turn and start the car. 

They tell old Gil stories during the short drive to the bar, until they’re both wet-eyed with laughter: the time Gil cried for a month after a girl who went on a single date with him stopped returning his calls, the time a drama department professor threw Gil into a swimming pool for hitting on his wife at a dinner party, and that one movie Gil wrote with all the worst dialogue anyone in their program had ever heard, including the original songs. 

“Remember when we caught him singing along and doing a like, dance routine to the soundtrack from _A Goofy Movie_?” Jay asks, laughing so hard he can barely get this out.

“Aw,” Mike said, because he’d actually felt sorry for Gil then. “That was kinda charming.”

“You’re psychotic,” Jay says, still laughing. He looks so good, bouncing with laughter in the passenger seat of Mike’s car, that Mike wants to keep driving until they hit the east coast, or Canada, wants to just run away with him for good.

But Jay doesn’t belong to Mike any more than he does to Simon, so Mike parks at the divey bar they specified, willing to bet as they walk inside that the vintage Jaguar double parked in its tiny lot is Gil’s rental car. 

Gil looks decidedly unwelcome as he tries to hang onto his narrow spot at the bar. He’s for some reason wearing a seersucker suit, on top of everything else. When he sees Mike and Jay approaching, his apprehensive look turns wild with glee, and he throws his arms out as if for the hug he’s always expecting everyone to enthusiastically accept from him. 

“Boys!” he says. “Is that it?” He points to the contract Jay is holding. “Oh my god, look at that, it’s beautiful, already--”

“Here,” Jay says, handing it to him. “Did you get my email with the scanned copy?”

“I did, I did!” Gil takes the contract and kisses it, which Mike finds rude and inappropriate in a way that’s totally on brand for Gil. “I just had to hold the original in my grubby little hands, too! But seriously, they do require your original signatures, so.” Gil holds it up and shakes it, grinning crazily. “Yeah, man! Full steam ahead! Gonna fly this back to L.A. with me tomorrow as if it’s the holy grail.” 

“That’s nice,” Mike says when Jay just makes a face like, what. “Thanks, Gil. We’re real excited about this. Came up with an idea for our feature and everything.”

“Oh my god, what! Tell me at once!” 

“No,” Jay says. “That would jinx it.”

“Yeah, you know, we’re still working on it,” Mike said, sorry he mentioned anything. “But we’ll fill you in soon.” 

“I love that you guys are together, just-- Look at you!” Gil makes a squealing noise and does something akin to jazz hands in their direction. “Let me buy you a drink, yeah? If I can ever get this damn bartender to give me the time of day.”

“I can’t drink today,” Jay says. “I’m on medication. And Mike has to drive. Can I get a ride back to my place?” he asks, looking up at Mike with pleading eyes, as if he would possibly say no. 

“Sure,” Mike says. He knows this is for Gil’s benefit, to get rid of him.

“Aww,” Gil says. “Soon, though! We’ll get together, just the three of us. Are you guys really not gonna take me up on my offer to stay in L.A. while you write?”

“We’re fine writing here,” Jay says. “Thanks anyway.”

“Boo, you whore! Whoops, I didn’t mean that-- You know, personally. It’s just a--”

“It’s a quote from _Mean Girls_ ,” Jay says, unaffected. “Yes, I’m familiar. And you could sincerely call me a whore to my face, Gil, and I wouldn’t give a shit. I gotta go, but I’m sure we’ll talk soon. Have a nice evening. Mike?” 

“Yep,” Mike says, turning to follow Jay as he glides away from this interaction with a kind of bitchy pride that Mike wants to get on his knees for already. He gives Gil an semi apologetic look that Gil waves off with a laugh.

“Thanks, guys!” Gil calls, clutching the contract as he watches them go. “See you soon!”

Mike doesn’t like the implication. Soon, Gil and everyone else will be seeing so much of them. It’s the first time the thought has bothered him. He can’t pick and choose who will see this thing, and it’s not really being made for him and Jay. 

“You can drop me here,” Jay says when they’re back in Simon’s building’s parking deck.

“To hell with that,” Mike says, looking for a spot. “I’m walking you up.”

“Mike, that’s not--”

“Shut it, Jay. This is not negotiable.”

Jay groans but doesn’t protest further. He’s quiet on the walk through the lobby and the elevator ride up, but he doesn’t seem troubled, just tired. He yawns as the elevator comes to the penthouse floor, and Mike wants to hug him goodnight so badly that it physically hurts when Simon meets them as the elevator doors open, precluding anything resembling a hug, which Jay probably would have jumped away from anyway. 

“I’m making swordfish steaks!” Simon announces with a grin, possibly drunker. “Mike! You’re welcome to stay.”

“I gotta get home,” Mike says, not wanting to witness any more knee pats or other intimacies between Jay and Simon this evening. “I’ll call you tomorrow,” he says to Jay, softly. 

“Yeah,” Jay says. He grins, touches his hair, seems to want to-- Something. Mike isn’t sure what, but Simon is lurking, watching, so Jay just waves. “G’night. Thanks for-- Um. Going along with my shit today.”

“Going along with your shit is what I do best, Jay,” Mike says, unwisely, and he lets the elevator doors shut between them before he can decide what the slight arch of Jay’s eyebrows and tight line of his mouth mean, exactly, in response to that remark.

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A theme song/mood for this chapter!!: 
> 
> [Jacksonville by Jinja Safari](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mt0VTXQA-sY)
> 
> ((NOTE: the porn storyline they come up with is inspired by / based on [this fic](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11551638/chapters/25942776), warning for non-con and upsetting themes. ))


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please enjoy this extra long chapter!! I'll probably wait till Thursday to update again, as I have some short Mike/Jay things I want to work on this weekend, one of which I've talked about in comments and one that is a surprise :> !
> 
> Hope everyone's doing well this week, your comments on this have been amazing and your support for this crazy story means so much, thank you to all who are reading! <3
> 
>   
> 
> 
> *

The following week feels dream-like for Mike, starting with the deposit of over two hundred thousand dollars into his bank account. Under the Lake wasn’t kidding when they said they wanted to move things along swiftly, and while Mike has been paid upfront for work before, the sum has never approached this much. Beyond his own bewilderment about suddenly having this money, which is a combination of feeling like he successfully robbed a bank and like a piece of his soul has just been purchased by a faceless smut factory from the west coast, he obsessively wonders how Jay feels about having his half, and resists the urge to grill him about it every time they speak. It’s a complicated subject probably best left for another time, too potentially fragile for their first week of work together in nine years.

That he now speaks to or at least texts with Jay daily and more often than not sees him in person remains consistently mindblowing to Mike as the week goes on, even with every meeting taking place in Simon’s domain, with Simon lurking around between bouts of pretending to want to respect their space while they work on their script. Simon’s shoot in L.A. has shut down for at least a week pending some insurance investigation after the minor injury on set, and for the most part Mike is surprised to find he doesn’t mind Simon’s continued presence. Having him there is even a bit of a relief, because being around Jay again, this much and for this purpose, is intense. Every time he steps into Simon’s foyer and finds Jay waiting for him, smiling and happy to see him, Mike takes it like a cannonball to the chest. He feels like he’s being knocked off his feet more forcefully each time, and like Jay is somehow getting better looking daily, too, as if being around Mike is gradually rejuvenating him.

Mike is doomed, pretty much. He barely sleeps, and when texts from Jay come in at three or four in the morning, with little notes about ideas he had while also lying awake, Mike wants to lick Jay’s words off the phone’s screen, then fling himself across town and climb into bed with Jay so they can whisper in the dark about these ideas like they used to. 

In lieu of that, Mike responds immediately, so that Jay will know he’s awake, too. 

The current draft of their script is not great, but Mike has hopes that they can polish it up, and their scripts were never what was special about their stuff, anyway. They always needed one to work from, but they usually got into it enough to come up with better dialogue in-scene, and the things their characters said to each other were everything that made their shorts not ‘just porn,’ along with the way they had of looking at each other back then, communicating a lot without needing words. 

Mike has been avoiding the subject of remastering their old stuff all week. He agrees with Jay that getting a script ready to send to Under the Lake for approval and notes should be their first priority, but by the end of the week he’s feeling itchy about getting started on the other work, too, and about the emotional wallop it’s going to deliver to both of them, if they can even stomach working on it together, side by side at the computer like old times. 

Mike can’t see how they’d do it otherwise. Sometimes when they were younger they would take turns doing the initial edit, then would revise each other’s vision until they got it right, but that was only on the biggest stuff. Usually they just sat together laughing and bickering, one of them giving direction about what and where to cut while the other manned the keyboard and either took this instruction or argued for why it should be different. Their edits were simple enough for this method to make sense, and it was personal for both of them, not something that would have felt right if they did it separately. Mike is afraid that’s even more the case with remastering the old stuff. He would never be okay with Jay doing it apart from him and sending him the remasters for approval, and he’s pretty sure the reverse is true for Jay. If it’s not, Mike’s feelings will be profoundly hurt, though he hates to admit this even to himself. He wants Jay to care, to be pushy and fight him to keep things in or take them out. 

He wants it to be like it used to, and he knows it won’t be, because as cozy and fun as it’s been to hang out and write together again, it’s not the same. They don’t try to make each other hard on purpose with their ideas and let it devolve into role play sex as a way to workshop dialogue, for one. Simon’s presence is again kind of a relief, in this respect. It helps Mike stay soft even when Jay is looking at him with unflinching focus as he says things like: and then your guy makes mine lick his come up off the floor. 

“Wow, really?” Mike says, his heel bouncing crazily after this particular suggestion. He both wishes Simon wasn’t hanging around at the other end of the long dining room table, tapping on his laptop as if he couldn’t work in some other room, and is glad they’re having this conversation with the stabilizing presence of a witness. They can get carried away easily, when it’s just the two of them.

“Yeah, really,” Jay says when he sees this is a serious question. He’s seated across the table from Mike, in his usual uniform of a t-shirt, jeans, and socks, and he looks irritated by Mike’s disbelieving expression. “What’s so hardcore about licking up come?

“Uhh.” Mike glances at Simon for help, but he’s frowning at his laptop screen as if he hasn’t noticed the turn this discussion has taken, typing something. “Nothing, just. Is it going to be stunt come?”

“Duh,” Jay says. “I’m not going to lick my actual come up off the floor on this kind of set.”

“This kind?” Mike says, pretty sure he knows what Jay means but endeavouring to be offended anyway. 

“One with more than the two of us.” Jay frowns after saying so, like Mike is being slow. “We don’t need to do this in a single take, especially since my guy is gonna hesitate and wibble about it first. Frosting will work fine after the cutaway.” 

“I’m just putting it out there that you don’t have to lick anything up off the floor,” Mike says. “I don’t think that scene needs this.”

“Yeah, it does. Something has to escalate between this scene and the next one. This shows your guy getting bolder and mine getting even more fucked up for needing to do whatever he says.”

“Sure, but--”

“Haven’t you guys picked names for these characters yet?” Simon asks, still staring at his laptop screen. “I keep hearing ‘your guy’ and ‘my guy.’” 

“Names are a big deal for us,” Mike says, probably more defensively than he needed to. It was a friendly enough comment. 

“Yeah,” Jay agrees, and Mike’s heart lifts. “But Simon’s right,” Jay says, punting Mike’s heart back into place again. “It’s time to pick names, even if that’s all we get done today.”

“Fine,” Mike says. “I’ve been thinking about Joe, for my guy.”

“A construction worker named Joe?” Jay says, making a face. “No, too obvious.”

“It should be obvious, this character ain’t subtle.”

“He will be, though!” Jay says, looking upset by this in a way that makes Mike weak, because oh god, Jay cares about making this good, he really does. “Sid was never subtle in the script, and Ronnie-- Jesus, he was like a cartoon character, in theory. You make these guys subtle when you play them, eventually, so. No dumb, broad comedy names.” 

Mike snorts and shakes his head at Jay’s pickiness, secretly loving it. 

“Fine,” Mike says. “Let’s hear your brilliant idea for a name.”

“For my guy? I was thinking Archie.”

“Eugh, no, talk about obvious.”

“What’s obvious about a hypnotized cocksucking businessman named Archie?”

“I don’t know, but-- Something.”

Jay snorts and smiles a little. Mike grins back at him, the uncomfortable tingle of hope that keeps sneaking into his bloodstream fizzing through him. 

“Kyle’s a good name for a subby, prissy character,” Simon says, looking up from his laptop, inviting himself to contribute in the annoying way he sometimes does.

“I can’t see Jay as a Kyle,” Mike says.

“Yeah,” Jay says, wrinkling his nose. “That’s not it. Hmm, how about-- Something with a B? Are B-names kinda vulnerable, do you think?

“Kinda,” Mike says, and he gives Simon a look for the way he laughs as if this is nonsense. That may be true, but Mike knows what Jay means, even if he can’t articulate why intelligently. “Brandon?”

“No,” Jay says. “I think it should have an ‘ee’ sound on the end, to make him more youthful and pathetic.”

That’s not the first time Mike has heard Jay fretting a bit about being ‘youthful’ enough, which is absurd. Age notwithstanding, he looks as bright-eyed and boyish as ever, to Mike.

“Brady?” Mike says. 

“Like the football player? No.”

“Aww, I think Brady’s cute. That asshole doesn’t own it.” 

Jay thinks about this, staring down at the polished tabletop, thoughtful. Mike lets himself admire Jay in moments like this, or maybe just always, at this point. Trying not to stare was a losing battle, and Jay seems to either not notice or not mind. 

“Even outside of the football association, it’s close but not quite right,” Jay says. “It’s going a little too far in the youthful-sounding direction.”

“True,” Mike says, and he makes himself sit back when he realizes he’s swooning forward against the table, toward Jay. His chest aches from pressing into the edge so determinedly. 

“I do feel like my guy’s name should be short and almost cutesy,” Jay says, “And yours should be something blunt, kinda uncommon but not distractingly so.” 

“Like Walt,” Mike says, “But not that, I know,” he adds when Jay opens his mouth to protest. “Too old man sounding. Just something with that kind of feeling, but younger.”

“Yeah,” Jay says, his eyes brighten the way they do whenever Mike correctly guesses what he’s thinking.

“You guys are weird about this,” Simon says, laughing under his breath at the other end of the table. 

“It’s important,” Jay says. “You know it is.”

“Absolutely,” Simon says, and he looks up from his laptop, observing them with a fond, friendly look. Despite his lingering presence, Mike hasn’t picked up much of a jealousy vibe from Simon, which vaguely concerns him, because he wants there to be enough of a thing between himself and Jay that Simon gets jealous, if nothing else. “Just the way you talk about it,” Simon says, waving his hand in their direction. “It’s interesting. Charming, actually. Carry on, sorry to interrupt.” 

“Benny?” Mike says, more than ready to ignore Simon. “For your guy?”

“Not quite right,” Jay says, and Mike agrees, already shaking his head to dismiss the idea.

“I’ve got it!” Mike says, pounding the table with his fist. 

“What?”

“Rodney! For my guy.”

“We can’t! It’s too much like Ronnie.”

“Oh, shit, you’re right.”

Mike scowls and thinks of his Dude Bros character, Ronnie, who was secretly in love with Jay’s character, Nate, in an increasingly sloppy overarching narrative that ultimately went nowhere. The premise of the series was that hapless Nate kept losing bets or otherwise getting himself in a series of sad sack circumstances where he ended up agreeing to be the come dump for the other two roomates, with Lance playing Tommy, who was eventually a semi-antagonist for Ronnie. This was all Jay’s idea, for the most part, with the joke at the base of the premise being that Nate was both pathetic for constantly not seeing how he was being manipulated into getting fucked by the other two and also that he was gay and in denial about it and therefore going along with the ‘reasons’ he had to service his roommates as if they were burdensome, actually loving it. 

“Have you heard from Lance since we signed up for all this?” Mike asks, unable to resist. At least with Simon here, they probably won’t fight about it.

“I texted him to tell him we’re doing it,” Jay says. “He was-- Surprised.”

“Hmm. I’ll bet.”

Lance was another classmate of theirs in the film program in college. He was the most traditionally handsome person they knew, a decent enough comedic actor, and kind of a labrador of a person in general, harmless and kind. He also seemed to have a crush on both of them simultaneously back then, in an uncomplicated way that was nothing like how they loved each other. It was flattering, and Lance was so new to being okay with his attraction to men that Mike felt an almost responsibility to indulge his curiosity about what things were like between him and Jay, particularly after they started selling the videos. Lance was the second friend they told about what they were doing, after Jocelyn, who was the first because she was also their first cameraperson, when they accepted that they couldn’t make the kind of really good, interesting stuff they wanted to without someone actually handling the camera while they were busy doing the hardcore scenes that weren’t easily interupted to check angles and weren’t properly captured in static shots anyway. 

Jocelyn was okay as a camera operator but it wasn’t really her strong suit, and she was quickly irritated with Mike’s attempts to direct her in what was essentially a huge favor she was doing for them, though they were also paying her. She had started law school by then and was also hard to schedule around, more and more often just too busy. Jay would later scream at Mike for saying he was the one who’d suggested Lance as a their new camera guy, because in Jay’s recollection the idea had somehow come to them mutually, as if they shared a fucking brain. Mike is pretty sure he’s right about it being Jay who brought it up, though he can’t remember the conversation verbatim, as they were of course drinking heavily when they first discussed asking Lance, who was struggling to find acting jobs and needed the money. Lance also had an organic interest in them and how they were together that Jocelyn was far more indifferent about. 

Admittedly, Mike was definitely the one who said, later, joking:

“We should have a threesome with him to try him out.” 

The way Jay’s eyes lit up at the idea is a really bad memory. 

Mike tried to backtrack, but it was too late. The seed had been planted, and eventually it would explode into a fucking jungle full of darkness and danger, though he’d bet that even now Jay would act like the whole ‘Lance thing’ was no big deal, if Mike was stupid enough to ruin their day by talking about it, which maybe he’s done already, because Jay is holding Mike’s gaze with an unflinching stare that says: I know what you’re thinking about over there, fucker. 

“He’s got no hard feelings anymore,” Jay says. 

“Me either,” Mike says, which is true. All his hard feelings are reserved for Jay, at this point, and here they are, racing into Mike’s bloodstream with an icy prickle and making his heart pound. “Anyway. How about Warren?”

“Who?”

“Warren, as a name for my character. Too professor-y?” 

“Sounds like a sitcom dad.” Jay sighs and lifts his phone, scrolling around. “I’ll try a name generator,” he says, mumbling.

“No! That’s cheating.” 

Jay glances up from the phone and gives Mike a dry, humorless stare that mellows into something more like fondness when he sees the look of real distress on Mike’s face, because goddammit they never used name generators, that’s not their process!

“Fine,” Jay says, tossing his phone back on the table. “Hey, Simon,” he says, turning. “What’s your evil hypnotist going to be called?”

“Dr. Lombard,” Simon says, without looking up.

“You had that picked out already?” Mike asks, annoyed that Simon has been thinking about their movie in some unauthorized way. Though of course he has. 

“No,” Simon says. He looks up, with the smirk Mike has to remind himself not to take personally. “It just came to me.”

“Barney!” Jay says, turning to Mike and grinning, as if struck by inspiration. “For my guy! What do you think? Sorry, I just thought of it.” 

“Don’t be sorry,” Mike says, feeling glum about a number of things, suddenly. One of them is the fact that he and Jay were Barney and Fred from the Flintstones together for multiple Halloweens, many moons ago. “That’s perfect, actually. Does that make my guy Fred?”

“Eugh, no. I don’t want people actually thinking about the Flintstones characters. How about Vince?” 

Mike has to wonder now if Jay and Simon came up with these names without him and are only pretending to think of them now. Though maybe it’s a fairly insane thing to wonder.

“I think I like it,” Mike says, stomach twisting. “Vince. Yeah. That’s construction worker-y enough without being too on the nose.” 

They work for a few more hours before Mike heads home, declining Simon’s offer to stay for dinner. Mike had dinner with Simon and Jay the night before, and he’s making himself take breaks away from those two, to clear his head. On the drive home, he takes the scenic route and eyes the boat dealership where Lance works, on the lakefront. What would Lance do if Mike showed up and wanted to look at boats, flush with cash and suddenly the kind of person who can afford one? What would Mike do, for that matter? Maybe the thought of Lance should enrage him, but it just makes him feel hollow and sad and like he’d go back in time and fix things if he could, though they really did owe a lot of their early success to how good Lance was at capturing the shots they needed and making the point of view appropriately lascivious and admiring in equal measure. 

Their eventual threesome with him was a one time thing, until they started the Dude Bros project, and then what they did with him on camera was just part of the work. It never felt emotional with Lance, not even that one time off camera, and there was never a moment when Mike remotely suspected Jay might have feelings for Lance that approached anything like the ones he had for Mike. Lance was just part of a larger, growing bad feeling about the whole thing, eventually, and about how Jay thought of their work versus how Mike did. Mike barely remembers the threesome, as they were all extremely high when it happened, but he knows Lance fucked him and not Jay. In the morning, Lance thanked them both sincerely and hugged them goodbye before going. 

“I didn’t really like that,” Mike confessed when Lance was gone, the apartment quiet and Jay’s head resting on Mike’s shoulder while they lingered in bed, hungover. 

“Yeah,” Jay said, sitting up on his elbows so Mike could see his face. He seemed serious, honest, all that. “It was awkward, mostly. But worth a try.”

“Sure,” Mike said. He didn’t feel broken up about it or anything, just drained, and relieved to be alone with Jay. 

“We probably shouldn’t do anything to fuck up our business relationship with him, anyway,” Jay added, because by then they’d already had Lance shoot a few scenes for them, including a short with Dex and Sid in the backseat of Mike’s car that was one of Mike’s favorite things they’d done so far, sort of incredibly hot, and well shot, he had to admit. 

“Business relationship,” Mike repeated, soft under his breath while he rubbed his fingertips over Jay’s naked back, making him shiver. 

“Yeah, that’s the really valuable thing. Though, I mean. I wanted to try this also, uh. In case we ever want to use him on camera, in the future.”

They had talked vaguely about scenes of their characters getting with other people as a kind of ‘special guest star’ feature in future videos. Mike avoided Jay’s gaze until Jay pressed his forehead to Mike’s and stared directly into Mike’s eyes, giving him the pleading look that always flushed Mike out, not letting him hide. 

“You can say no,” Jay said, in the goofy, sheepish little voice that he sometimes put on when he wanted to hide, too. “Just. It wouldn’t mean anything to me except as work, so. Don’t say no on my behalf.” 

“Say no-- To what? Someone else fucking you on camera?”

“Yeahhh. Just for, you know. We’re going to have to mix it up eventually, if we’re really going to do this.”

“Do this, like. Keep making the movies?”

“Uh-huh.” 

Mike can’t remember the rest of the details of that particular conversation about branching out. He just knows it happened on the morning after the only non-recorded threesome they ever had, which by then was already feeling more like something Jay had done for work than for fun.

They never talked about any of this much, until they were screaming about it at the end. Mike wonders what Jay would say now. It’s too early, but. He has some questions. 

He eats dinner alone in front of the TV, calls Rich about some Manhole Entertainment business that they have to wrap up before Mike refocuses on the Under the Lake work for a while, and scrolls through the old Sid and Dex videos for the third time that week, not watching any of them all the way through but making notes here and there about what to look for in their B-roll archives to either cut in or include as outtakes. He gets so absorbed in this that it’s one o’clock in the morning by the time he finds himself yawning and falling asleep at the computer. 

He takes his phone to bed, which is always dangerous, but things have been going well so far, between the valleys of surprise stabbing heartache, and also he’s lonely. There’s only ever been one person in the world who made the crushing presence of that loneliness fade completely, and he manages to hold off for a while, but after tossing and turning until two in the morning, he sends Jay a text. 

_you awake?_

Jay responds almost instantly, and Mike grins at his phone in the dark, his whole body thrumming in a way that feels so right and earned and perfect, the way it always has when Jay does exactly what Mike wanted him to.

 _Yes_ , is Jay’s first message, and then: _Are you?_

Mike sniffs in approval at the stupid joke and dials Jay’s phone number before he can overthink his impulse to have Jay’s voice in his ear for a while. 

“What’s your excuse for being awake this late?” Jay asks when he answers. 

“I ate fast food garbage for dinner,” Mike says, as if he hasn’t spent the whole week fighting for anything resembling a regular sleep schedule, and as if Jay hasn’t figured that out by now, via the timing of Mike’s texts. 

“You should have stayed over and eaten with us,” Jay says. “Simon made seafood pancakes.” 

“The fuck?” Mike says. “Gross.” 

“They were good!”

“Then how come you’re awake, you paragon of health.” 

Jay sighs. “I dunno. Just, everything.”

“Yeah.”

They’re both quiet for a while. Mike closes his eyes and listens to Jay breathing in the dark, imagining they’re in bed together, facing each other on the same pillow, and that he could reach over to feel the warmth of Jay’s skin if he wanted to, if he needed it. 

“Listen,” Mike says. “We’re far enough along with the script now. I think we should start working on the remasters and the bonus material.” 

“I know,” Jay says. He sounds as apprehensive about it as Mike feels. “I guess it’ll be good to change up the routine a little, at least. I feel-- Restless, like. Cooped up here. It’s part of why I can’t sleep. I guess we’ll work on it in your studio?”

“We could,” Mike says. “But I do most of my editing work at home.” 

“Oh-- Yeah?” 

“Yeah, the studio’s still pretty bare bones, we mostly use it for shooting and storage. I do have an editing setup in my office there, though, if you’d be more comfortable--”

“Your place is fine,” Jay says, a little breathlessly. “I’m curious to see it, actually.”

“Ahh.” Mike looks around at his bedroom, which is messy with clutter, nothing on the walls. He’s treated this place like a temporary stopover since his divorce, and in four years has never really done anything resembling decorating, aside from hanging his old Star Trek posters out in the living room. “You may be disappointed. Especially after seeing Simon’s.”

“My apartment is a shitty little studio, Mike. I’m not used to living like this. Honestly, it’s part of why I’m starting to feel claustrophobic here. Ironically. It’s just-- The wide open space of everything, and how shiny it all is. And upscale in this, like, sterile way? It’s part of what makes it feel like a cage, sorta.” 

“What’s Simon up to tonight?” Mike asks, so that he won’t blurt something about his willingness to spring Jay from that cage, right now if he wants.

“Sleeping,” Jay says. “I presume. He has a rule about going to bed at ten o’clock, unless he’s working. It’s some L.A. health thing.” 

“How about this,” Mike says, tired of thinking about Simon, “I’ll come get you tomorrow morning. We can go for a drive, in the country or by the water, whatever you want, to air you out a little. I’ll buy you lunch. Then we could head over to my place and get started on the remaster work.” 

“That sounds good,” Jay says. Mike would wager that’s a smile he can hear in Jay’s voice. “Yeah, um. Just call me when you get here.”

“I’ll be there around ten. Get some sleep, Jay.” 

“Yeah, you too. G’night.”

Mike hangs up, feeling even more hopelessly awake, his heart beating fast as he grins up at his ceiling like an idiot. It’s like they have a date, almost. He quickly reminds himself that line of thought is absurd: Jay needs money, Mike is his pathway to that money, and at the end of all this there’s a real likelihood that Jay will want to leave the Milwaukee chapter of his life behind him and go west with Simon. 

Only it doesn’t feel that way, at least not in the moment, in the dark cave of Mike’s bedroom, where he can float into absurd, daydream places with these plans for the morning making him vibrate with glee. He rolls over and closes his eyes, pulls his pillow into his arms and tries to only vaguely imagine that it’s Jay, curled up against him in the dark, rescued from stalkers and webcams and Simon’s pristine penthouse. 

But still not safe from you, a snarling thing inside him says, before slithering back into the mire of his regret and self doubt. 

He dreams about that old apartment where they shot the Dude Bros shorts, which was the one they shared for seven years. It was Jay’s place first, and when both of his roommates moved out shoftly after Jay and Mike started fucking, it seemed like a sign. Mike always felt a little bit like he was on Jay’s turf after moving in with him, but he didn’t mind it and for a long time even kind of fetishized the feeling that he’d edged in on the last vestige of Jay’s private life and set up camp in Jay’s lair. Even back when Mike had him, he was so obsessed with Jay, and every little domestic gesture of Jay’s was fascinating. The apartment was mostly a dump, a furnished rental with the old lady artifacts of their landlord cluttered in every room. They did not have permission to shoot commercially available pornography there and were exposing themselves to a lawsuit by doing it, but Mike always thought that if they somehow got caught, they could just flee the state and start over elsewhere, no problem. With Jay at his side it had always seemed like they could do anything and get away scot free, as long as they escaped together. 

They never should have shot at home, but they didn’t have much choice, if they wanted to do those kinds of interiors, still years from being able to afford renting studio space or even building decent sets. They started shooting Dude Bros with Lance in 2008, just before their big online break, and at first Mike liked the fact that they were doing this wild new experiment in the apartment, because that made it safer and more theirs, no matter who else was involved. Lance always felt like their pathetic lapdog anyway, until he finally broke out of their orbit and started making demands about having the old content pulled down. It wasn’t him being there for shoots, or his dick being in Jay, or anything specific that made Mike start to feel like they were living on a soundstage rather than in a private residence. It was a combination of all of that and the fan interaction they started doing online to support the sudden explosion of interest in their videos once access to them was easier, and the resulting avalanche of cash that seemed like it couldn’t be real, even when it fattened up their bank accounts enough to make studio rental a reality. They also used the money to take a trip to Hawaii in 2010, which is still one of the best memories of Mike’s life, sitting right at the end of one of his last wholly good years, right before the shitshow that 2011 brought down on him. 

Mike wakes up later than he intended to, feeling haunted by a number of things and trying to shake those demons before his day of airing Jay out, bringing him over, and maybe actually watching some of their old videos together, if they make it that far without things getting awkward or worse. He cleans his place up as best he can, not too worried about the lingering imperfections. Jay knows he’s a slob. Jay knows him, still. Enough, anyway, for Mike not to care about being judged a little or compared to Simon in any ways he hasn’t been already.

It’s a pretty day, and the fat white clouds and sunshine overhead feel like good omens. Mike texts Jay when he’s in the parking deck of Simon’s building, saying he’s on his way up.

 _I think I can make it down to the lobby without you escorting me, Mike_ Jay sends back, right away. _Let’s find out_

Mike isn’t sure if Jay is sincerely annoyed or just teasing, but he doesn’t even like the idea of Jay being alone in an elevator that might pick up randos from other floors on the way down. He’s not sure the penthouse elevator works that way, though; he’s only ever been in there by himself. Worrying about it makes him decide he can’t wait much longer to ask about the whole stalking thing. At some point he’s got to find out exactly what happened and what Jay is afraid might happen now, but maybe bringing it up on the same day they start to work on their old videos together isn’t the best idea.

The elevator doors open while Mike stands waiting near the security desk, and the sight of Jay as they part to reveal him is fucking cinematic. It’s the sweet anticipation on Jay’s face, or the way his green t-shirt makes his eyes look extra bright in the sunlit lobby, or just the fact that they’re finally going to be alone together, for real, in a space that doesn’t belong to someone else.

“So?” Mike says when they’re standing face to face, Jay peering up at Mike like he always used to, as if he can’t decide if he admires or resents Mike’s height. “What are you in the mood for?”

“Let’s just go to Veterans Park and walk around,” Jay says. “It’ll be crowded, but I could stand to do some people watching.” 

“I do have great people watching commentary,” Mike says, not surprised that Jay wants to go to the most crowded outdoor space possible for his first foray out in the world since they met Gil at that bar, so far as Mike knows. 

Jay again has no comment on Mike’s car, which Mike appreciates. It’s nothing special, a black Audi that he bought used. Rich makes fun of him for it as if he’s putting on airs, but Mike wanted something nice for himself after he started to finally recover financially from the divorce a few years back. He wonders what Simon drives, and tells himself again to stop obsessing over Simon.

It’s reminding him too much of how he used to obsess over Lance, even when he knew Jay only saw Lance as a means to an end. Eventually Mike figured out that it was Jay seeing people that way that bothered him, not any kind of jealousy. It had worrying implications for how Jay saw Mike, and it’s way too tempting to start thinking that way again now.

Mike just wants to be in a good mood and enjoy Jay’s company, with all that baggage ignored for as long as possible. 

Which was also a problem in the old days, if he’s honest. 

“You’re quiet,” Jay says when they’re driving toward the park. “Were you able to get much sleep?”

“Yeah,” Mike says. “You?”

“I fell asleep after we talked.”

It means too much to Mike to assume that the comfort of hearing his voice helped Jay get to sleep. He tries not to think about it and casts around for a subject change that won’t lead them down dark alleyways. 

“Have you thought about what sort of bonus material we should put out?” Mike asks, because maybe if they talk about it now, watching it will hurt less later.

“Yeah,” Jay says. “I was thinking about that old instructional style video we did, the one we could never get working right.”

“Oh, shit,” Mike says, grinning. “I loved that one.” 

“I thought you hated the way it turned out?” Jay says, recoiling with suspicion.

“No, just-- I couldn’t get the stupid 1950s educational video narrator voice right, and the black and white effect was nothing like how I’d pictured it--”

“Right, and I was thinking, now that we’re on Under the Lake’s dime, we could get the video looking really authentic and hire an actual voice actor to do the narration.” 

The instructional-style video on how to properly deflower a virgin was one of their first non-Sid and Dex ideas. It had been Mike’s idea, and Jay had deemed it ‘probably too sweet’ to suit their brand of porn loaded with weird tension and characters who longed for each other while hurting each other. But Jay had been willing to give it a try, as it didn’t really require much more from him than lying there and letting Mike treat him like a delicate, innocent virgin who needed to be treated right, according to some faceless narrator’s authoritative instructions, in the style of a social sciences video that would be shown in a classroom, which was what was supposed to hot about it, that level of weirdness making the careful, methodical way Mike’s nameless deflowerer handled Jay’s character’s virgin ass have a hint of wicked taboo on top of the cutesy element that Mike insisted on, such as the narrator pointing out that the newly ex-virgin should be held and kissed for a long time afterward. 

“Yeah, we could look at that today,” Mike says, nodding, relieved. “And we should get started on the Sid and Dex stuff, uh. Since there’s so much of it.”

“Oh god,” Jay says, sighing. “Yeah, I know.”

“What?” Mike says, though of course he knows why Jay is dreading this. 

“Nothing,” Jay says. He squirms in his seat a little, staring out the passenger side window. “I just can’t stand to watch that old stuff.” 

“Seriously? You don’t-- Haven’t--”

“No.” Jay turns to Mike, frowning. “Have you?”

“Uhh,” Mike says, which is as good as telling him: yes, I rewatch them, yes I’m that pathetic. 

“I guess I can see how it wouldn’t bother you too much,” Jay says. “Since you looked good in them. I just can’t fucking stand how I looked back then, or, like, how I acted.”

“Acted?” Mike says. “I always thought you were great. That wasn’t false praise. And you were cute as fuck.”

“Of course you thought so,” Jay says, sharply. “You were--”

He doesn’t say the rest. Mike tries to focus on driving, his vision tunneling when he thinks about what Jay almost said: you were in love with me. 

“So,” Jay says, huffy. “You have skewed perspective. Had, I mean.” 

“Well, you’re gonna have to stomach it,” Mike says, not wanting to talk more about why he thought Jay’s performances in those videos were amazing, or why he still does. “Unless you want to just trust me with all the remasters.”

“Oh hell no,” Jay says, and he’s smirking when Mike gives him an offended look. 

They find a space for the car in the park’s main lot and walk around aimlessly for a while. Mike follows Jay’s lead, trailing behind him as if Jay is a pet Mike has brought out for exercise. Jay looks good in the sunlight, now wearing the dorky sunglasses that were hanging from the front of his t-shirt when they left Simon’s building. 

“Can I buy you lunch?” Mike asks after they’ve walked around near the water for a while, talking about Simon’s shoot in L.A. and Mike’s latest project, avoiding any further discussion of their old videos for now. 

“Sure,” Jay says. “I didn’t have any breakfast, so. Yeah, I’m hungry.”

“I was thinking just something from there,” Mike says, pointing to the burger stand up ahead. “But maybe you don’t eat junk anymore?”

Jay snorts. “I totally eat junk,” he says. “All the time.”

Mike grins when he realizes Jay is making a joke: junk, as in dicks, haha. It quickly feels less funny when Mike wonders whose junk Jay has been feasting on. 

“Seriously, though,” Mike says when they’re seated at one of the park’s outdoor tables together, unwrapping burgers. “How’d you get in such good shape?”

“The same way anyone does,” Jay says. He looks haughty but also like he’s enjoying being asked. “Just ate better, worked out more.”

“I mean what kind of work outs,” Mike asks, wanting to picture this more clearly.

“Jogging, lifting, nothing fancy.”

“Who spots you when you lift weights?” Mike asks, picturing Simon standing over Jay in that home gym, watching Jay while he pants for breath and drips sweat, grunting. If Simon got hard while watching this, would Jay feel obligated to suck Simon off, since he’s staying at his place?

“I don’t really have a work out buddy,” Jay says. 

“Isn’t that dangerous?”

“No, I mean-- There were other people there, at the gym I was going to, in case of emergency. I guess I should cancel my membership, now,” he says, muttering. “I have to move, too, eventually. Being stalked is a huge pain in the ass.” 

“What’d the guy do, exactly?” Mike asks, aware that he’s being insensitive. He just can’t hold the question in anymore. 

Jay gives him a look like a warning, but he doesn’t seem mad.

“He figured out where I live somehow,” Jay says. “I started noticing this guy at the grocery store sometimes, and I’m always, like-- Kinda on edge in public, I don’t like being recognized, you know that. So I was aware of this person I’d seen a few times, looking at me, and then I started getting messages about how someone was posting pictures of my apartment building online, and saying they were going through my garbage--”

“Jesus christ.”

“Yeah, and I hoped it was just bullshit, but I’ve had-- Problems, with this kind of stuff, before. So one night I’m home alone and someone’s knocking on my door, and I already had a bad feeling, so I didn’t answer. Then this started happening, like, every night. And my neighbors were complaining that some strange guy was loitering in the halls and around the building and asking them questions about me. I called the cops and had to work with them for fucking months before they caught him and arrested him for loitering and harassment. This was after I’d already started staying at Simon’s place, but the guy didn’t know that. And I guess he had, like, pictures on his phone-- Like. That indicated he’d been trailing me around town, and the cops were able to connect it to this account online that was bragging about going through my trash and shit, because he’d been posting some of those pictures.”

“Holy fuck.” Mike puts the remains of his burger down, appetite gone. 

“Yeah, so. If he violates the restraining order he’s going to be in real trouble, but until then he’s free to like, push whatever limits he wants, I guess! And I’m trying to stay out of it and let the cops just do their thing keeping tabs on him, but let me tell you how fun it is to work with cops and tell them about how you’re a camboy and you were in gay porn and have some of them insinuate that maybe you brought this on yourself--” 

Jay groans and puts his burger down, too. He looks behind him and around at the area in general. Mike does the same, scanning the park for any suspicious looking characters.

“What’s this guy look like?” Mike asks. 

“He’s young,” Jay says, his lip quirking up with distaste. “Only twenty-one, which was less scary to me at first, and then I started to think about how that’s, like, in the onset age range for schizophrenia.” 

“Jesus, Jay,” Mike says, hurting for him, wanting to grab his hand. 

“Yeah, but he doesn’t have a history of-- Much of anything, thank god. He’s white and average looking with light brown hair, I don’t know. Kinda like the blandest guy possible, someone you’d easily overlook. Serial-killer style, I guess.” 

“Fuck.” 

“He’s also a lot bigger than me, which is not great.”

Mike looks around the park again, suspicious of every big, bland-looking white guy he can spot, which in Milwaukee is most guys. He wants to ask Jay for a picture or the guy’s name, but has the feeling this conversation has gotten too upsetting already. Jay hasn’t taken another bite of his food and is staring at the center of the table, shoulders lowered.

“I’m ready to go to your place now,” Jay says, giving Mike a pleading look that makes him jump up from his seat and start gathering their trash. 

“Yep, me too,” Mike says. “Sorry-- ah. Sorry I got you talking about that shit, I didn’t mean to ruin your day out.”

“No, it’s fine,” Jay mumbles, also standing, avoiding Mike’s eyes.

All the way back to the car, Mike feels itchy with a combination of paranoia, regret, and the need to whisk Jay away from all of this: from the park, at least, which is all Mike can really do. Jay has gotten quiet, and seems on edge until he’s buckling himself into the passenger seat again. Mike gives him a mournful stare before starting the car. Jay takes his sunglasses off again and meets Mike’s broken-up gaze, shrugs. 

“I’m okay, Mike,” he says. “Just. Ready to transition out of webcam work.” 

“I hate that you felt like you had to do that,” Mike says, though he knows he should shut up. 

“I could have kept working retail,” Jay says, that warning look returning to his face. “The truth is, uh. I worked really fucking hard to get in shape, and spent a fortune on fixing my teeth, and it was-- A big deal, for me, to finally feel like I didn’t look like shit. You, uh. You knew my feelings about on being on camera, toward the end.”

“Yes,” Mike says, awful refrains from their last fight echoing in his ears. 

“So it was cathartic, at first. I was showing off, like, look at me now, bitches. And I got off on the risk involved, you know how I am. For a while, anyway. Now I’m just too fucking old for this shit, for one.”

“You look thirty at most.”

“Ha, well. I meant emotionally, but thanks.”

Mike suppresses an eyeroll and starts the car. 

Between hearing about Jay’s stalker and the anticipation of being alone with Jay in his apartment, with no chance of Simon or anyone else popping in from the other room to interrupt them, Mike is on edge by the time they’re taking the stairs up to his place. His unit is on the second floor, two bedrooms, nothing fancy. He could afford something better, but he’s gotten attached to this place a bit, because moving in here was the first time he’d known peace for years after he and Candy ended their misguided attempt to spice each other’s lives up with constant chaos. 

“I remember this,” Jay says, grinning and pointing to one of the two framed Star Trek posters that grace Mike’s living room. 

“Yeah,” Mike says, scratching at the back of his neck and now wishing he’d made more of an effort to clean up. His place looks so dingy and cluttered compared to Simon’s sprawling, sterile rooms. “Like I said, the place isn’t much,” he says, watching Jay wander around and peek at his bookshelves and the stack of DVDs by his TV. 

“You should see mine,” Jay says. “It’s like a closet with windows.” 

“Mhm,” Mike says. “Gonna upgrade now that you’ve got the cash from Under the Lake?”

He’s been wanting to ask, and now he has. Jay puts Mike’s DVDs down and straightens, looking like he’s not sure how to feel about that question.

“Dunno,” Jay says. “The whole future’s so murky right now. I guess I’ll wait and see how well the old stuff sells, uh. And see what I can expect to make from that, before I make any decisions.”

“Speaking of the old stuff,” Mike says, “The editing suite’s this way. You want anything to drink?”

“I kinda want a triple vodka straight up, to be honest,” Jay says, muttering. He grins at the look of distress on Mike’s face. “It’s gonna be like a bucket of ice water over my head, watching myself in these things. But, um. No, I’ll do this sober. I’m ready.” 

Mike isn’t, but he leads the way into the second bedroom anyway, which serves as his editing suite and home office. 

“Nice setup,” Jay says, making a beeline for Mike’s equipment so he can catalogue and probably criticize everything. 

“Haven’t noticed a room like this at Simon’s place,” Mike says. “Though I guess there’s plenty of it I haven’t seen.” 

“He has an office there,” Jay says, bending down to check out Mike’s old mixing board. “You use this?” he says when he straightens, pointing.

“Not really, it just kinda hangs out in here. I mostly do the sound mixing in Avid.”

“Right. Anyway, um. Yeah, I try to stay out of Simon’s office. Should I go grab a chair from the dining room?”

“I’ll get one,” Mike says. “You can have the nice chair, since you’re the guest.”

He expects Jay to refuse, then realizes he shouldn’t have. Mike can’t help but grin at the sight of Jay helping himself to the Pro Line chair and jiggling the mouse to wake up the monitors without hesitation. He can’t help enjoying the idea of giving Jay the best things he has to offer, and taking less for himself so Jay can have more.

“Guess I’ll go ahead and order a second one of those,” Mike says, nodding to the chair Jay is sitting in as he carries the dining room chair over. “Since we’ll be, uh. Putting in some hours on this project. Don’t want to end up with backaches.” 

“That’s a good idea,” Jay says. He scoots his nice chair over to make room for Mike’s uncomfortable wooden one. “This is crazy,” he says, grinning, when Mike is seated and they’re face to face. “Right?”

“Yes,” Mike says, wanting to lean over and kiss him, for luck. Jay smells faintly of sunscreen, and of other things that are harder to place and more delicious. “But what about our lives isn’t?”

“True.”

Mike is glad Jay had the idea to start with the old educational film parody. It doesn’t feel especially personal or heavy, needs work but has potential, and was shot in 2005, when Jay was a little softer but not super sensitive about his weight yet. 

“I’m stripping the narrator audio level out completely,” Mike says. “I think we can agree that needs to be redone.” 

“Yeah,” Jay says. “I seem to remember the dialogue audio’s pretty bad, too?”

“But it’s supposed to be,” Mike says, because the few exchanges that their unnamed characters have are supposed to have the crackly, awkward quality of an old educational film. The narration was meant to have the same popping and tinniness of old film reel audio, but the problem there was Mike’s inability to get the tone right when he tried to take on a smug, somewhat condescending 1950s narrator character’s voice. Jay kept telling him he was doing it too goofy. Mike knew he was right but couldn’t figure out how to stop, and ultimately they shelved the whole thing for being not hot enough and too cutesy, which were also Jay’s comments.

“Kinda surprised you want to return to this,” Mike says, dragging his notepad over once he’s got the video loaded up. “Thought it was one you didn’t like.”

“It just came to mind as a longer one that could be punched up,” Jay says. He’s keeping his eyes on the central monitor, where the video is paused. 

Mike figures they’d better just rip the bandaid off quick and hits play, clears his throat and uncaps his pen. If he gets hard, he’ll be mortified, but Jay might have that problem, too, in which case Mike’s heart will sing itself right out of his chest. 

“Do you have the old script?” Jay asks when the video starts up, a grainy title card with YOUR SPECIAL FIRST TIME appearing onscreen. 

“Yeah, somewhere,” Mike says, as if he doesn’t know exactly where all this stuff is stored in his computer files. 

“You should read the narration,” Jay says. Onscreen, there’s a footage from the bank of old lockers Mike used for school sets, also on his uncle’s old property, part of an abandoned manufacturing building. Little Jay appears at the lockers, dressed up to look like a preppy virgin in a little polo shirt, his hair styled into the dorky spiked-up thing he used to do anyway, which Mike had deemed perfect for this video.

“Read-- What?” Mike pauses the video. “The script, the narration? You mean-- Right now?”

“Yeah, right now, read along with the footage.” Jay looks over and shrugs. They’ve got the overhead lights dimmed down to almost nothing, and the room’s only window is covered with a blackout curtain as usual, but Mike can see from the glow of the monitors that Jay is already a little flushed. “There’s barely any audio in this without the narration,” Jay says. “You need those beats if you’re gonna make any useful notes.” 

“True,” Mike says, though he’s concerned about reading a script that’s supposed to be hot out loud with Jay listening. He supposes it’s just another thing about this that he has to get over and reaches for the mouse, navigating to the old Word doc. 

“We could record you, even,” Jay says. “And see if it already sounds better, just. Now that you’re older.” 

It’s true that part of what sounded wrong about the old narration was that Mike’s voice was too young-sounding. The narrators of these things were middle aged men. Mike grunts in acknowledgement of Jay’s suggestion, still kind of unable to believe that he’s one of those now, and that they’re returning to this project fifteen years later, so much time having passed that Mike now possesses a slightly different voice. 

“Oh god,” Mike says, standing at his printer as the script pages print out. “I forgot how fucking corny this is.”

“It’s supposed to be corny! That’s the gimmick. Like one of those old videos.”

“Remember when you said this would never be hot?”

“It doesn’t have to be,” Jay says, and Mike turns toward him, surprised. Jay shrugs and shakes his head. “Mike,” he says. “This is unseen footage of me and you fucking. That’s what people are going to want to buy, hot or not. It’s a nostalgia thing. Or, uh. It’s a you and me thing. Us being together, that’s what they’re getting off on, people who still care about this stuff.”

“We could attract new fans,” Mike says, feeling punched. “If, you know. If we make something good enough.”

“I guess,” Jay mutters, sounding skeptical. “But it’s mostly for the old ones, at this point, so. I just thought, you know. Here’s a video of me pretending to be a virgin that you’re deflowering, never before seen. And they’re all obsessed with the real one. I get questions about that shit daily, in my chats. It’s become this fucking-- Urban legend of gay porn.”

“Only it’s real,” Mike says, feeling like he probably shouldn’t say so but unable to help it. “And it doesn’t look much like what happens in that,” he says, pointing to the video that’s paused on the monitor.

“No shit,” Jay says, holding Mike’s stare with mildly angry determination. “I was there. I remember.” 

“Mhm, well. Anyway.” Mike turns and gathers up the script pages, not even sure what he’s feeling anymore. Too many things at once. “Your line of thinking, uh. Makes sense. You always had a good head for business, Jay.”

Jay rolls his eyes but looks pleased when Mike returns to his side, with the script. 

“Someone with a good head for business wouldn’t have sunk into debt that he’s still paying off just for two years of film school that mostly taught him he’s an exhibitionist,” Jay says.

“Film school also introduced you to some helpful business associates,” Mike says, meaning himself, avoiding Jay’s eyes. “Though maybe helpful isn’t the word you’d use now.”

Jay pokes Mike’s bicep to get Mike to look over at him. Mike kind of can’t believe how good it feels to be touched by him, even in a single finger poke, even with his emotions running this high and tense. 

“I don’t regret it all,” Jay says. 

“That’s-- Pretty hard to believe,” Mike says, remembering the last thing Jay said to him during their fight. He pushes it away quickly, doesn’t want to get all self-pitying or angry right now. 

Jay sighs and looks down at the script in Mike’s hands, up at the monitors, then into Mike’s eyes again. 

“The bad days were awful,” Jay says. “But the good ones were the most fun I ever had. You ready for me to unpause?”

Unpause, Mike thinks, staring at him, imagining what that could mean. 

But he knows it’s just literal: the video, their project. It’s nothing to do with Mike and Jay except that they’re both onscreen, and both sitting here, doing this for work, for money.

“Go for it,” Mike says, turning to page one of the script and flicking on the audio recorder he uses for simple demos. 

Jay unpauses, and the shot onscreen shifts to a closeup of his sweet little face as if shot from inside the locker he’s opening. He puts books inside and grins when Mike comes into frame, crowding Jay at his locker. Mike is dressed preppy, too, with gel in his hair and an old letter jacket over his t-shirt. He’d long ago stolen the jacket from his older sister’s high school boyfriend for the purpose of using it in his movies, and he’s pretty sure he still has it somewhere, probably at the studio. 

“Your time at school has been full of challenges and new experiences,” Mike says, reading from the script and hearing himself doing the too-goofy narrator voice, just like before. Jay gives him a signal to continue when Mike glances over at him with a helpless look. “Many of them are academic, and just as important as those are your social lessons and firsts.”

Jay snickers a little at the cheesy dialogue but keeps his eyes on the screen, where he and Mike are walking through the simulated high school hallway together, Jay’s shoulder bumping Mike’s arm as they fake an unheard conversation and give each other love eyes. 

“Some of the relationships you develop will lead to certain feelings,” Mike reads, glad he has an excuse not to stare at the screen as the scene switches to him and Jay sitting at the base of a big old tree, books in their laps, while they stare at each other like they’re deeply in love, because these characters were and because the real Mike and Jay were, too. “And these feelings can lead to certain new experiences that require a level of care and responsibility that must be taken seriously, lest we risk hurting our most special relationship.” 

Mike glances up just in time to see his character leaning in to kiss Jay’s on the lips: tentatively, nervous, as if they’re crossing the bridge from friendship to boyfriends just then. 

“Ugh,” Jay says. 

“What?” Mike asks, flicking his eyes away from the screen, heart pounding.

“Nothing,” Jay mutters, snarling. “Just, my teeth.” 

“I liked your teeth,” Mike says.

“I know you did.” Jay seems to consider saying more, but only huffs his breath. He once accused Mike of liking the crooked teeth because they made Jay seem weaker and more pathetic. “Keep reading,” he says, eyes on the screen. “You’re getting out of sync.” 

“The relationship between young lovers is rife with potential complications,” Mike says, pausing to scoff angrily at the irony, “But it needn’t be any more difficult than treating each other with care and respect. This is especially true when the relationship becomes physical.” 

The shot onscreen has Mike and Jay making out on a front porch at night, as if after some innocent movie date. It’s heated, and there’s a shot of Mike staring hungrily down into Jay’s eyes, then one of Jay gazing up at him. Mike swallows, remembering how Jay would accuse him of overusing this exact shot in all their stuff. Mike couldn’t help it. That look in Jay’s eyes when he peered up at Mike like he was overcome and a little scared but still wanted more was Mike’s favorite thing in the world. Of course he wanted to try to capture it over and over again on film. Doing so felt like his fucking life’s mission, at some point. 

“You were so cute,” Mike says, wanting to defend this little Jay while the current one stares at the screen with distaste, his upper lip still raised slightly. “What?” Mike says when Jay turns that look on at him.

“You’re way off sync with the narration now,” Jay says, snapping his gaze back to the screen.

“Ah, who cares.” 

“I do! C’mon, Mike, we’re working. I’m aware of your feelings on my previous-- Looks. Fine, I believe you feel that way-- Felt that way. Can we move on?”

Can we move on, really? Mike wants to smack the script against the desk and storm out, but he behaves and reads on, his voice tightening into an irritable pitch that actually works pretty well for the smug narrator. 

The movie continues with Mike and Jay in what’s supposed to be Mike’s bedroom. It’s actually the bedroom they shared for seven years, dressed up to look like a high school boy’s wholesome room, with checkered bedsheets and sports posters on the wall. The narrator goes over the importance of having adequate privacy during a virgin’s first time, so the nervous little virgin will feel comfortable and safe. Mike’s dick stirs to life as he reads over this, and he’s glad he’s not staring at the screen along with Jay, because they’re starting to undress in the footage. 

“This part’s good,” Jay says, trying to sound clinical about it a way that Mike catches onto and sort of loves. Jay has never been a good liar, despite his talent for acting opposite Mike in these movies. That kind of acting was never a lie, at least until the end. Jay really loved Mike, wanted him, and went weak-kneed for him in a way that could be captured on camera. “Isn’t there narration here?” Jay says, sounding as if he knows what Mike is thinking and doesn’t approve.

Mike continues reading, the narrator carefully outlining how to kiss and touch and prep a virgin for fucking, as clinically as if he’s describing how to change a car’s oil, with just a hint of lascivious enjoyment. At least, that’s how it should sound. Mike can tell he’s not doing a good job, but this is just a dry run, and Jay barely seems to be paying attention to Mike’s reading. He’s staring at the screen, frowning a little as he watches himself stretched out in the bed for Mike, peering up at him with worshipful patience as Mike’s character fingers him open and pauses to kiss him when the narrator reminds him to demonstrate physical affection as a way of keeping his little virgin calm, pre-fucking. 

“Jesus,” Jay says when the thing is halfway over. He’s sweating a bit; Mike can smell it. It’s making Mike a little hard, along with the dialogue he’s reading and the occasional glance he dares at the images onscreen. He has the notepad to conceal his semi-erection, at least. 

“What?” Mike says. “Want me to turn it off?”

“No.” Jay looks at Mike like he’s insulted. “It’s just-- This is so, like. Sentimental, or something. It might be the weirdest thing we ever made.” 

“But you were right when you said it’s a good thing to release for the fans who want to see-- This, us. They always ate the sentimental shit up.”

“That always surprised me,” Jay says, mumbling. “That they wanted us to be this happy couple.”

“It makes it more real. And we were that happy couple.”

Mike stares at the screen, ignoring the look Jay is giving him. 

“I know,” Jay finally says, under his breath, then he’s looking at the screen and avoiding Mike’s stare.

They make it to the end of the video without any further commentary that isn’t related to their notes on how to remaster it, and Mike starts scanning through other old footage and pictures they might release for bonus material, deciding that Sid and Dex can wait for tomorrow. Jay is tense beside him, and there’s plenty of other stuff to go through. 

“Oh, hey,” Mike says, opening one of their old outtake videos. It was released as bonus content for subscribers at one point, but Mike has rarely seen it pop up online. “I always loved this one.”

“Of course you did,” Jay says. 

It’s a compilation video Mike made of takes that got screwed up because Jay said Mike’s name instead of the name of whatever character Mike was playing while fucking him. 

“Should I--?” Mike asks, his finger hovering over the mouse.

Jay shrugs and sits back, folding his arms over his chest. 

“Go ahead,” he says. “That one can probably be released as-is, though. I remember-- It’s a good edit, like. Funny. And kinda hot.”

Mike wants to say: kinda? But he supposes he’s biased. He hits play, and every scene of Jay moaning Mike’s name and then laughing and cursing because he knows it screwed up the take punches him in the heart, Mike’s cock throbbing in a corresponding and dangerous fashion with every punch. 

“Fuck,” Jay breathes out onscreen when he hears himself doing it again, panting and straddling Mike’s chest, pausing in riding him to push his hair off his forehead. “Okay, sorry, start over-- Muh--” Onscreen Jay moans when he catches himself almost saying Mike’s name again, head falling back because Mike is rolling his hips up, grinning like the smuggest shit in the world while Jay whines and tries to refocus. 

“So,” Mike says, glancing at Jay when the video ends. “Um, I agree, that-- Could be released as-is.”

Jay sighs and nods, eyes on the screen, his arms still folded tight across his chest. 

“Remember this,” Mike says, hoping to diffuse the tension and possibly kill his hardon when he clicks over to a folder labelled HAWAII. It might as well be labeled PAIN, for what looking through it will do to him, and maybe to Jay.

“Yes,” Jay says, staring as thumbnails of videos and pictures of them smiling in paradise appear onscreen. “Of course. I don’t want-- You’re not going to make this bonus material, are you?”

“Why not?” Mike asks, clicking around. “These videos are cute. Is this too personal, for you?”

“I mean.” Jay shifts in his seat, mouth pressed in a straight line. “They’re our fucking vacation pictures, Mike.”

“Yeah, but. So what? We’re selling nostalgia for our actual relationship, like you said.”

“When did I say that?”

“When you said it was okay to release a not very hot, sentimental video, because people just want to look at me and you together?”

Jay fidgets in his seat, looking away from Mike’s pressing stare. There’s something dark and dangerous in his eyes when he meets Mike’s gaze again.

“You’re right,” he says. 

“I know I am,” Mike says, though he doesn’t actually plan to release photos from their vacation and knows exactly what Jay means about why they shouldn’t. He just wants to use this as ammo to make Jay admit Mike is right about other things. “Like, look,” he says, opening one of the videos. “This one’s super charming, remember this?”

In the video, they’re in bed together in their cheapo motel room in Hawaii. The expensive plane tickets had been the only thing they went all out on, and even those were just coach seats. Their motel was four blocks from the beach in Waikiki, and looked like it hadn’t been renovated since it was built in the late 60s. To them, that was perfect. 

“It’s three o’clock in the morning and we’re both awake,” Mike says in the video, holding the camera over his face. Jay’s face is right beside his on the pillow, and he’s trying not to smile, pressing his lips together to hide his teeth. “It’s like three hours till sunrise on our first full day here and I just told Jay we should make a porno in this crazy vintage motel room,” onscreen Mike says, “And he just said the cutest fucking thing--”

“Stop,” Jay whines onscreen, shoving at the camera, but Mike holds it out of his reach and continues, grinning. 

“He said, no, we’re on vacation! Aww. Does that mean you’re not going to let me fuck you all week, Jay?”

“Fuck off,” Jay mutters, giving up on grabbing the camera. He’s smiling, burying his face against Mike’s shoulder, eyes closed. “Stop recording, goddamn you. I’m not even awake, really.” 

“I have to record, we’re gonna want to remember this. God knows it might be the only vacation we’ll ever be able to afford.” 

“Mhm,” Jay says onscreen, sliding his arm across Mike’s chest. 

The video ends after Mike turns to kiss Jay’s forehead and grins giddily up at the camera once more before shutting it off.

Jay is fuming when Mike looks over at him, and pretending to be calm. He knows Mike just used that video on him like a weapon. Mike pretends to be making notes and waits to see what Jay’s answering move will be. Mike’s erection has flagged, because he also used that video as a weapon against himself. 

When the bleeding thing at the center of Mike’s chest has dried up enough that he’s pretty sure he won’t burst into tears as soon as he meets Jay’s eyes, he peeks over at him.

Jay is giving Mike a steely stare. It makes Mike shiver, because he recognizes that look as the one Jay adopts whenever he’s about to shoot an arrow at the apple that’s always on top of Mike’s head, waiting for Jay to hit or miss. 

“We should do a livestream,” Jay says. 

“Sure,” Mike says. “After I’ve lost some weight, maybe--”

“You don’t need to lose weight. You look good, actually. I meant right now. We should do a surprise livestream on my channel, to show we’re really together, working.” 

“Uhh,” Mike says, scrambling to debate the pros and cons of either calling Jay’s bluff or not, as always. “Okay?” he says, giving Jay an uncertain look. “Do you want to write a script for it, or--”

“No, a livestream-- The point is that it’s candid, that’s why people find it exciting. Here, I’ll log in, we should just do it before we can overthink what we’ll say.”

“That seems--” Mike says, but he stops there and shrugs when Jay gives him a look like: you’re scared, aren’t you? “Fine,” Mike amends, voice tight. “Why not. Go for it.”

This was how it always, always was with them, back then. Knowing how it ended the first time, Mike shouldn’t be so excited to be doing it again, but his heart and his cock have never been able to resist Jay when he gets like this, like he’s not afraid of anything and has nothing to lose, no matter how much is really on the table. Better still if it’s everything.

Jay pulls up YouTube and logs in. Watching him do this on Mike’s computer feels like a dirty co-mingling of Jay’s stuff and Mike’s, and Mike is aroused by this even as he watches Jay click ‘Never’ on the ‘Remember Password?’ prompt. Mike is breathing harder already as he watches the preview of the two of them onscreen, so soon after watching their old stuff on this same monitor. 

Their eyes meet onscreen, and it’s like they’re staring into a magic mirror together. Mike feels something stirring deep in the pit of him, a long-sleeping thing that only Jay has ever been able to bring to life. 

“This framing looks stupid,” Mike says, holding Jay’s gaze on the montior. “With the two different styles of chairs, different heights-- It’s tacky.”

“I could--” Jay starts to say, but Mike doesn’t let him finish, because it’s Mike’s turn to up the ante and act insane.

“You could sit in my lap,” Mike says, pronouncing this more like it’s an order than a suggestion.

Jay drags his eyes from their images on the monitor and turns to stare into Mike’s face, lips slightly parted. There’s a cute flush spreading across his cheeks. Perfect for their big co-star reunion debut. 

“Okay,” Jay says, and Mike can almost taste how dry Jay’s mouth has suddenly gotten, or maybe he’s hearing it. He watches Jay swallow and stands, moving the kitchen chair out of frame. Jay stands, too, bracing his hands on the arms of the other chair as he lifts himself out of it. The way he quickly shuffles over to stand behind it makes Mike wonder if he’s getting hard. 

“Here,” Mike says, taking Jay’s place in the chair and swallowing a moan, because the seat of the chair is warm from Jay’s ass, and that warm little ass is about to be on Mike’s thighs. He gives his left thigh a pat, staring up at Jay and daring him to do it. “Sit,” Mike says, sharply. 

Jay exhales and turns his back on Mike before lowering into his lap, moving awkwardly, shoulders stiff. 

“See,” Mike says, twisting the chair so they’re facing the monitor again. Mike looks like a lurking monster behind Jay, who’s breathing harder already and staring at their images on the screen, transfixed. “Much better,” Mike says, voice low, and when he settles one hand high on the inside of Jay’s thigh his cock fills so fast that he knows Jay will feel it, too, against the seat of his ass. 

Jay just stares at Mike via the screen, his mouth hanging open slightly. He licks his lips once and spreads his legs a little when Mike tightens his grip on his thigh.

“Fuck,” Jay says, exhaling. He looks like he’s trying to brace himself, and he’s definitely getting hard now. “Where’s the,” he says, groping for the monitor. “The, the camera’s built in, right?” he says, tilting the screen up so that their laps aren’t visible.

“Yep,” Mike says, his mouth so close to Jay’s fragrant neck that he knows Jay will feel the heat of his breath against his skin. He smirks at the little shiver that passes across Jay’s shoulders and down his back. “Mhm, look at that,” Mike says, staring at the screen and meeting Jay’s muggy gaze there. “We always did look good together.” He rubs Jay’s thigh just slightly, with his thumb. 

“I’m gonna start it now,” Jay blurts, maybe just for the excuse to not be alone with Mike in this moment. He reaches for the keyboard with a visibly shaky hand. “Let me do the talking,” he says, snippy again when he gives Mike a warning glance. 

“Won’t say a word,” Mike says, his eyes still daring Jay to do it. Mike isn’t entirely sure that he will. He just knows the old Jay would, without hesitation. 

Jay leans forward so that his face fills the screen, blocking the view of Mike behind him. He hits record, then broadcasts, and he’s smiling for the camera as the stream’s hit count immediately begins climbing. 

“Hey guys,” he says, hands pressed flat on the desk, still blocking the view of Mike by looming close in front of the camera, his face filling the whole screen. “Just thought you might like to see what I’m up to today.”

He sits back, grinning, and settles against Mike’s chest. The camera is angled up too high to show Mike’s grip on Jay’s thigh, but he keeps his hand there, fingers pushing in tight. He stares at the monitor, watching himself look like he always did back then, when he had Jay where he wanted him in these videos: smug, content, slightly evil.

“Look who’s here with me,” Jay says, rolling his shoulders back against Mike’s chest a little, flirting either with him or with the viewing audience, probably both. “Mike, say hello to my subscribers.”

“Hello,” Mike says, deadpan and only smiling in his eyes, wickedly. 

“We’re working on remastering our old stuff today,” Jay says, his voice only hitching a bit at the end of that statement, when Mike rubs his thigh again. “It’s pretty weird, looking back at the old videos after all this time, but it’s fun, too. We’re already working on some old, never before released stuff that I think you guys will really like--”

Mike reads the live comments scrolling upward on the side of the screen while Jay babbles more lame brand-appropriate remarks. Several people are already asking if the unreleased material is their authentic first time video. Mike has peeked at Jay’s website and the other fan forums since Jay made his first announcement video about working with Mike again, and the reactions have been predictable so far: excitement of variously embarrassing levels, some doubt expressed that this is really happening, a couple of comments about Mike having gotten fat. Jay has ignored all the comments so far, and he ignores the live ones now, only talking about how great it is to work with Mike again and how much cool behind the scenes content they have to share. His voice stays pretty steady while Mike continues to squeeze the inside of his thigh with teasing, alternating pressure. Jay is shaking a little, but not hard enough for it to be visible on camera. Mike is rock hard under Jay’s ass, not caring. He glances down at Jay’s crotch and almost moans when he sees Jay is in a similar state, tenting his jeans. 

“We’re gonna do a Q&A together on here soon,” Jay says, “When we’re a little further along with the old MikeNJay videos, and also with our super secret feature project. Gonna get back to work here in a minute, just wanted to show everybody that we’re actually in the same room together and, um, just mention how well it’s going so far.” Jay turns to smile at Mike from over his shoulder. “It looks like you’ve kidnapped me,” he says, muttering this to Mike as if it’s not actually for the audience. “With the lighting in here.” 

“This is my editing suite at home,” Mike explains, figuring that’s permission enough for him to talk. “Not a sex dungeon where I’ve brought Jay against his will.” 

Jay squirms in Mike’s lap a little and seems to consider what to say next, possibly distracted by the press of Mike’s massive erection against his ass, or the ache of his own. His cheeks are red in a way that the camera picks up. 

“So yeah,” Jay says, flustered when he turns to the camera again. “Just wanted to update you on how it’s going, which is well, and we’ll have more detailed info soon as everything continues to come together. I’ll post the date of the Q&A on the site soon. Till then, everybody stay tuned for some really exciting shit, because we’re just getting started and it’s all looking great so far.” 

“Mhm,” Mike says, nodding and tilting his hips a tiny fraction under Jay, staring dead ahead at the monitor like he’s threatening anyone out there to dare come near to what’s clearly his property again, perched comfortably in his lap in the dark of his editing suite/sex dungeon.

“Bye for now!” Jay says, his voice starting to sound a little strained, and he reaches forward to snap the broadcast off, then the recording. 

As soon it’s off, Jay leaps out of Mike’s lap like he’s on fire and stands there boggling at him, chest heaving. Mike stares back, prepared to be yelled at. 

“I have-- Have to jerk off,” Jay says, swallowing after he’s said so and dragging a hand over his face. 

“Me too,” Mike says, standing. 

“We should, we--” Jay’s eyes sink to the bulge of Mike’s dick and his mouth works stupidly. “Oh my god,” he says, under his breath. “Fuck, jesus--”

“Calm down,” Mike says, loving this. “We can do it in my bedroom, just. Separately, but together. Baby steps, right?”

“Ah, yeah, that’s--”

“Come on, Jay, get it together. Do you need me to carry you there?”

Mike feels bad for half a second, because Jay looks hurt when he meets Mike’s eyes again, like maybe he does need that. Only then does it occur to Mike that outside of perfunctory hookups with Simon ‘a while’ ago, Jay might not have been touched in a long time, walled off from the world inside his webcam tower. 

“I’m fine,” Jay says when Mike steps toward him. Jay’s expression shifts from that soft, begging thing to bitter annoyance in a blink. “Just-- Yeah, good idea, we-- Let’s go, let’s do that. What you said.”

Jay is still pretty stammery, which Mike enjoys, but he keeps his eyes hard as he follows Mike out of the room and into the bedroom. Mike checks back over his shoulder a few times to make sure Jay is still trailing him and also to enjoy that petulant look on Jay’s face that means nothing, really, because Jay is still doing whatever Mike tells him to, still a little addict for it once he gets himself worked up and into the right headspace, and here he fucking is, here they both are: right back in it. 

Mike made his bed before leaving to get Jay that morning, and he’d told himself he was being stupid because it wasn’t like Jay was going to end up in his bedroom. He feels now like he knew that Jay actually would, because they are just as bad as Mike and Candy were when they’d start egging each other on, maybe worse: accelerant to explosives, already. 

They don’t undress, just lie back on Mike’s bed, two feet of space between them as they tear open the flies of their jeans and reach in to touch themselves, not even pretending not to watch what the other is doing. The relief of taking hold of his cock while staring at Jay’s is too much for Mike, he can’t contain a noise. Jay just pants and stares at Mike’s dick as Mike works himself, his lips wet and shiny. 

“Did you like that?” Mike asks, because: fuck it, this roller coaster is already down its first hill and climbing up the next one, nowhere to go but racing along the tracks. “Being on camera with me like that?” Mike asks when Jay lifts his gaze from Mike’s cock to meet his eyes. “Yeah, you did,” Mike says, grinning, his eyes drifting back down over Jay’s perfect body. “You’re so hard for it, fuck.”

“I’m-- I’m hard because you were humping my ass,” Jay says, red-faced, breathless. He’s jerking himself fast, like he wants to get this over with or like he needs to come real bad. “Cheater,” Jay says, biting this out in a bratty way that feels a whole lot like flirting when he meets Mike’s eyes again. 

“Couldn’t help it,” Mike says. “Maybe I was just, unh, fuck-- Adjusting, ah. Yeah.”

“Yeah,” Jay says, mocking him, and he grins at Mike’s sneer. “Fuck, I’m gonna, hah, I’ll-- Mess up my shirt, shit--”

“Push it up,” Mike says, and he’s never been as sure of anything as he is that Jay will do whatever Mike asks him to right now, because Jay is close to coming and behaving recklessly, holding Mike’s pushy stare. “Go on, yeah,” Mike says, watching Jay shove his shirt up to expose his shuddering chest, his other hand still moving fast and rough on his cock. “Good, yeah,” Mike says, watching Jay’s hand sneak up higher, his knuckles moving under the fabric as he tugs on his nipples. “Fuck, yeah, Jay,” Mike says, staring, his eyes roaming everywhere, grip tightening on his dick as he feels himself getting close. “Yeah, like that--”

“God,” Jay says, sobbing this out, his eyes laser-focused on Mike’s dick as he starts to arch up off the mattress a little. “Jesus, you, ah, fuck, Mike. You’re so, unnh. So fucking big.”

He says this like Mike’s cock is inside him already, and he’s so definitely thinking about it that Mike comes with a groan, heedlessly ruining his own shirt. 

Jay is quick to follow, whining and biting his lip, probably digging a fingernail into his nipple as he pumps himself dry, if Mike knows him at all.

And now, panting in bed beside him, post-ograsmic and hazy, Mike is sure: he does know this fucker, completely, still. It’s in his blood and his bones again, all over, this certainty.

“Fuck,” Jay says, softly, eyes closed. He’s still got one hand pushed up under his shirt, the other sliding down to the mattress as his spent dick start to soften.

“Here,” Mike says, sitting up. He grabs the tissues from the bedside table and sits much closer to Jay when he returns to the bed, his dick still out as he takes a handful of tissues and leans down onto his elbow, using his other hand to mop at Jay’s trembling stomach, cleaning the come away for him.

“Stop,” Jay says, and Mike does, but only to leave his tissue-filled fist resting on Jay’s stomach and look down into his eyes, which he shouldn’t have done, because his body moves on autopilot, hopelessly pulled in by the heat and scent of Jay’s as he tries for a kiss. 

Mike isn’t surprised when Jay moans and rolls away before he can make contact. He knows it’s a bad idea, too. He should be relieved that Jay is scooting farther from him and tucking his dick back into his underwear, zipping up his jeans.

“We can’t do that,” Jay says, still a little breathless. “Please, just-- Everything’s so--” 

“I know.” Mike sits up with a groan and puts his dick away, then the rage slams in, right on schedule. “Actually, I don’t fucking know-- Why? Why can’t we?”

“Are you crazy?” Jay says, wide-eyed. He stands, a little unsteady on his legs as he backs away from the bed, from Mike. “We can’t make this about-- Jesus, just-- Think about it for a second--” Jay groans and puts his hands over his eyes, shakes his head and almost doubles over, then straightens up again and gives Mike a horrified look. “Jesus, what am I doing?” he says, looking around like he just woke up. “I’m in your bedroom, what the fuck--”

“I’ll tell you what you’re doing,” Mike says, standing, furious. “If you really want to know. You’re doing what you always do, Jay. Escalating and escalating, and getting off on how insane you're being and how supposedly fearless and unflappable you are, until you roll yourself right over a fucking cliff and then blame the emotional freefall on me.” 

“I'm not doing that! I never did that!”

“No?” Mike feels something welling up in him, and that it’s too late to put it away before it spills out. 

“No! I never blamed you for any of what I-- Did, or--” 

“Really. Because saying that when you woke up next to me every day you thought--”

“Stop!” Jay shouts, so loud and frantic to not hear the rest that Mike’s shoulders jump, and for a second he feels truly remorseful. 

Mike stands there waiting for whatever’s next, listening to Jay’s heavy breathing, mostly glad that Jay stopped him from repeating the worst thing Jay ever said to him, also the last thing before 'Gil is late,' nine years later. He supposes it doesn’t really matter, though, because they’re both hearing it again anyway, in their minds.

“I'm surprised it took you a full week to throw those words back in my face,” Jay says, and his voice sounds so fucked up that Mike just feels awful, not angry anymore. 

“I’m still surprised to this day that you ever threw them in mine,” Mike says, letting Jay see the hurt in his eyes in a way that he didn’t, couldn’t, back then. 

Jay makes a punched little sound and starts to walk past Mike, toward the door.

“Where the hell do you think you’re going?” Mike asks before he can get there. 

Jay turns to glare at Mike but also plants his feet. 

“Going to call Simon to come and fetch you?” Mike asks, trying to get angry again, because that’s better than feeling like he’s going to drop to the floor at Jay’s feet and sob. “Is he standing by to fetch you in a goddamn limousine?” 

“He’s back in L.A.,” Jay says. His eyes are still hard, but his voice is chewed up and small, and Mike hates-- Just hates this part, just like he knew he would. “He left this morning,” Jay says, firming his voice up a little and squaring his shoulders. “The shoot’s restarting.” 

“Oh,” Mike says. He wants to step closer, get on his knees, crawl into the bed and hide from all of this under the blankets. “I-- I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry.” Jay doesn’t need to say: for which part. It’s implied.

“Just, yeah, that-- You must not like being alone there, um. I’m sorry you lost your, uh. Companion.”

Jay rolls his eyes and lets out his breath. He smooths down his t-shirt, adjusts his jeans and neatens his hair, then looks up at Mike shyly, like he wants either direction or a real apology. 

“It’s okay,” Jay says. “I was getting kind of sick of him being around all the time.” 

“Really.”

“Yeah, just.” Jay swallows and rubs his hand over his face, sighs. “He thinks he’s in love with me,” he says, mumbling. “It makes me feel bad.” 

“Because you don’t love him?”

“I feel like I should-- I should go--” 

Mike doesn’t argue, since there’s no way they’re getting more work done today, and it’s almost five o’clock anyway. They walk to the car in grim silence that Mike feels almost comfortable within. He’d feel better if he had any idea what Jay is thinking. 

“I know you’re going to say hell no,” Mike says when they’re almost to Simon’s building, “But I could stay over with you, if you want. Doesn’t have to be tonight,” he says hurriedly when Jay turns to reply, “I know you need-- A break from me, too, probably, after-- But. If you ever feel, you know. Like you need someone there with you. It could be me. No matter what time it is, you know I’m a light sleeper. Just call me up, and I’d come over.” 

“Okay,” Jay says, softly. “Yeah. Thanks.”

“And I could stay tonight, too, if--”

“I’m okay tonight,” Jay says, and Mike feels stupid, nodding. He wonders if Jay sighs and tells Jack or Josh, ‘Mike thinks he’s in love with me, it makes me feel bad.’

Mike tries to get Jay to let him walk him up, but Jay only lets Mike get as far as the lobby before giving him a theatrical wave goodnight that tells him to get lost. Not ready to go back to his place, Mike drives around for a while until he has an idea. 

He goes to Office Depot and buys the nicest desk chair they have. It costs almost four hundred dollars, but he doesn’t give a fuck, with Under the Lake’s cash sitting comfortably in his account. He brings it back to his place, stopping for a six pack on the way, and stows the beers in his fridge before getting started on the chair construction, the lights turned up and curtains pulled back in his editing suite, flooding the room with light as if to chase out the demons left by the day’s events. Never mind the bedroom, he’ll deal with those ghosts later.

He was half-convinced he was going to have to call Rich over for help with the chair assembly when he got started, but eventually he’s working fluidly with all the little bits and bolts, glad to have something non-creative and non-Jay to focus on after the exhausting day of both. Though, if he’s honest, he’s also enjoying putting the chair together because he’s doing it for Jay. 

When he’s done, he cracks open a celebratory beer and drinks a few gulps before taking a picture of the fully constructed chair and texting it to Jay. 

_Look at this chair I just handcrafted for you_ , he sends. 

He drinks more beer, feeling stupid again until Jay’s response arrives a few minutes later.

_Wow look at that. Beautiful. Thanks!_

The exclamation point makes Mike think Jay has probably been helping himself to the contents of Simon’s elaborate wet bar since Mike dropped him off. Mike grins, wishing he was more drunk himself and texting back as if he is:

_So you're going to come over and do all that again tomorrow, right?_

Jay takes a while to respond, almost twenty minutes. Mike tells himself not to obsess, and he’s halfway through a second beer when Jay’s reply finally arrives.

_You know it._

Mike isn’t sure how to interpret this: annoyed, resigned, or flirtatious? He sighs and goes to Jay’s website, where there’s a thread on the official forum about Jay’s livestream. Most of the comments are inane expressions of disbelief and anticipation, and a surprising number of them are neutral to positive comments on Mike’s looks. A couple of people even say Mike looked hot. 

Mike smirks at the screen when he finds an exchange toward the bottom of the page that he particularly likes. He’s surprised Jay hasn’t screened it. Maybe he hasn’t seen it yet.

_turbokid777  
could we not see below their waists because they were fucking?_

_icebitch  
Mike N--> Jay, Classic. Yeah Jay was all sweaty. Stealth porn already._

_turbokid777  
mike looked like he was enjoying himself too much_

_yuurrmom  
he probably did kidnap jay we should save him_

_icebitch  
No we shouldn’t._

_turbokid777  
Yeah kidnap that boi. Team Mike_

Well then, Mike thinks, throwing back more beer. At least the assholes are on his side.

He thinks of Jay’s stalker horror stories and feels bad for enjoying this kind of banter. He closes his browser, pulls up the Hawaii trip folder and watches the videos inside it until his takeout dinner arrives and his eyes are blurry and wet at the corners. The best one is of Jay at the only remotely fancy dinner they had in Waikiki, at Roy’s. It’s a video of Jay after he’s had about three pineapple martinis. He’s red-faced and laughing at Mike’s bad jokes, his fluffy hair extra blond after being sun-drenched for days, chubby cheeks a little sunburned, and he’s drunk enough that he’s laughing without covering his mouth or licking over his teeth. 

Perfect, Mike thinks, wiping at his face. Like all the best Jay stuff, captured on video or live and in person, he can’t help but hope that no one will ever see this but him.

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cheesy but good song for this chapter, I think!!:
> 
> [What a Time by Julia Michaels](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=G39G7eoUClE)


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So now that I've gotten Clone Verse out of my system (FOR NOW), back to this story!! This was originally the first half of a longer chapter, but I think it works better split in two and that second half will be posted soon~~ !
> 
> **

The work they do together in the weeks following what Mike has come to think of as the mutual jerkoff incident goes more smoothly than he feared, though not in a way that ever feels easy. He’s on edge when they work together, and especially at every reunion, when Mike picks Jay up in the morning and brings him over to his place, and parting, when he drives Jay back to Simon’s building. Transitions seem to be the most dangerous, when Jay will give him little looks that communicate how on edge he feels, too, and it’s better when they’re both facing the computer monitors in Mike’s editing suite, even when the screens are showing images of the two of them from the past that resonate like visitations from another dimension. Sometimes they just start laughing hysterically, not because anything is particularly funny but because the sense of surreality has peaked and suddenly there’s nothing else they can do but laugh or cry, the latter not really being an option if they’re actually going to get this done. 

At some point the peaks and valleys between emotional wallops smooth out a little, too, and the presence of Jay starts to feel less like something that can’t be real and more like normal, everyday life for Mike. It’s not the same as in the old days by far, but Jay is again part of his daily routine, and if they have awkward moments or snap at each other over an editing decision, it’s easy enough to move on. Ironically, the more the moments when Mike feels like doing this is going to kill them both stack up around them, the less likely it seems that the difficult stuff actually will do them in, because they’ve faced it and moved past it, mostly. 

Toward the end of every work day, Mike starts to get antsy thinking about how their first one at his place one concluded. They haven’t devolved into frantically jerking each other off again, and as the agreed upon date of their live Q&A together approaches, Mike wonders if having an audience will set them off like the last livestream did, and if they’ll have another bitter fight afterward. 

When he’s not wondering nonstop what will happen next and what Jay is thinking over there in the nicer chair beside his, Mike is actually doing some his best work in years and is increasingly optimistic that they can grow their fanbase with the release of the remasters. The Sid and Dex stuff is especially strong, with cleaned up visual quality and some new shots from archived b-roll mixed in. They almost never decide to cut any of it, and often the biggest challenge is coming up with proper titles, since they previously released these with titles like ‘Sid fingerfucks Dex in a shed.’

That one ends up being titled ‘Head Down, Ass Up,’ after one of the dirty talk taunts Sid aims at Dex, and they continue that tradition with the rest of the videos, picking some bit of dialogue to use as the title. The ‘Head Down, Ass Up’ one is only the second video they ever shot, not long after the first one, both of them already addicted, though they hadn’t yet discussed the idea of letting anyone else see these for a price. That they were both thinking it and not saying it made recording more videos even hotter, adding to the weird, wonderful tension that had surrounded them at the start.

Their second video was shot on the same property as the first, in an abandoned equipment shed that’s supposed to be on the grounds of the high school that Sid and Dex once attended, near an unseen baseball field that the chain link fence outside is supposed to represent. The griminess of the set is perfect for the scene, and it looks even better with the shots cleaned up a little. The action is pretty simple: Mike sitting in a rusted old chair inside the shed, Jay bent over his lap with his pants and underwear shoved down around his ankles, moaning as Mike fingers him, those ridiculous glasses sliding gradually down his scrunched up face, until they’re perched precariously at the tip of his nose.

The jewel of this one is really the dirty talk, which had poured out of Mike like it was coming from some other dimension, already formed there and arriving on his tongue like a prophecy. Jay’s reactions to it are a big part, too. They’re genuine, because Mike was an expert in how to work Jay’s prostate until he was losing his mind and begging, and the dynamic between Sid and Dex is already evolving, too. At this point in the series Dex is a virgin and is hopelessly under Sid’s sway for reasons unknown, maybe because he’s afraid of Sid and maybe because he wants this, maybe both. He’s red-faced and sniffling after Sid has brought him off twice without ever touching his dick, and he gets a full ten seconds to sit up shakily in Sid’s lap and rub at the wet corners of his eyes before getting shoved away. 

The series then progresses into ‘Shut Up and Take It,’ where Sid comes to Dex’s bedroom window still half drunk after an all night bender. He flops from the windowsill and into Dex’s bed to clumsily make out with him and eventually fuck his face while Dex lies on his back and tries not to choke on Sid’s cock. After he comes down Dex’s throat, Sid crawls down to return the favor with eagerness that’s surprising to Dex, even after the interlude at the fence. When Sid has swallowed Dex’s come he pulls off, moans as if he’s already falling asleep and puts his cheek on Dex’s skinny, trembling thigh, where he falls asleep while Dex’s breath gradually goes from choppy panting to calm and surrendered. The last shot is of Dex’s trembly fingers gently daring a few strokes to Sid’s green hair while he sleeps it off. 

Then comes ‘Cherry Pop Time,’ where Sid fucks Dex for the first time, in what’s supposed to the be basement of Dex’s house, also the location of Dex’s ‘science lab,’ a pathetic set they cobbled together in a corner of their apartment, with the idea of doing some magical realism stuff later with Dex formulating various serums that would made Sid act one way or another for him, Sid always misusing these so that Dex just got fucked by him even harder. The virginity loss video was originally released in two parts, and they debate keeping it this way or not, not really reaching a conclusion by the time they’re done editing the ‘Creampie Boy Takes It Again’ segment of the first time arc. It ends with Sid and Dex on the floor of the lab, both breathless and sweaty, fucked out, Dex having come three times by that point, Sid two. Sid laughs fondly at the end and says he fucked Dex blind, then sits up and reaches out of frame with a grunt, finding Dex’s glasses where they landed on the floor after Sid fucked him hard enough to knock them free. He puts them back in place on Dex’s face and kisses his puffy lips before leaving him there on the floor of his lab, after saying he needs a cigarette and being told by wheezing Dex that he can’t smoke in the lab because of the chemicals. 

There are six videos along these lines before the emotional crux of the overall series happens in the seventh one, which was the first one they conscripted Lance to tape, the car sex short that’s one of the best in the series but one that Mike rewatches the least, because of the shift it represents in reality, too, with Lance coming onboard for the first test run. They’d also started selling the tapes by then, and were getting addicted not just to making them but also to the feedback they got from their customers. 

Mike doesn’t sense the same trepidation from Jay when it comes time to work on the remaster of the car sex video. They’ve been doing the Sid and Dex shorts in order, for ease of tracking the continuity, and despite the occasional bump in the road, Mike has mostly felt okay about the whole thing up until this morning, maybe even good. It’s such a relief to know the thrill of working with Jay again, and to wake up every morning knowing that Jay is waiting to be fetched by him, even when knowing this also means Mike is fighting back tears or an inappropriate boner. 

“This one’s good,” Jay says when Mike pulls up the car sex short after they’ve settled into their usual chairs in his editing suite. “It was so much better with a cameraperson.” 

Mike is already on edge, and Jay must have known that comment would shove him there, so. Great.

“It was harder to get into the scenes,” Mike said. “For me, anyway. When it wasn’t just me and you getting lost in it.”

“I would forget Lance was there at all,” Jay says, keeping his eyes on Mike’s monitors, and Mike has to bite his bottom lip to keep from grinning, his spirits shooting way the fuck back up. Jay has always been able to do this to him: kick when he’s down, rescue him from the depths, throw him into a well, lower his golden hair so Mike can climb out-- Back and forth without warning, maybe without even noticing. 

The video is well shot, Mike must admit. Just having camera movement adds a lot. It opens with Sid driving in the rain, and reminds Mike of having all this planned out and waiting for a rainy day in Milwaukee, watching the forecast, excited and nervous. 

There’s a close up on Mike’s face as Sid squints at something outside the car. Generic screamo is blaring from the car’s speakers, and Sid flicks it off just before they’ve played enough copyrighted material to get in trouble. 

The thing outside the car that Sid has noticed is Dex, walking along the side of the road and getting drenched by the downpour, his arms wrapped around himself.

“What the fuck,” Sid says, muttering this to himself as he pulls up alongside Dex.

Mike glances over at Jay. He seems to be riveted, and his hand is wrapped around his bicep in that telltale way, just under the sleeve of his t-shirt. So maybe he’s nervous about watching this one, too. 

“There’s one part of this that I want to cut,” Jay says, keeping his eyes on the screen though he can clearly feel Mike staring at him. “See if you can guess what it is.”

Mike snorts, because he thinks he can guess already, but he turns back to the video and decides to wait until the end to say so.

“Ey!” Sid says onscreen, shouting at Dex from the car after he’s rolled the passenger side window down and pulled up beside him. “That you, butt boy? What the fuck are you doing?”

“Walking,” Dex says, hatefully, his shoulders drawn up and the water dripping down over his glasses hiding his eyes. 

“That delivery was so perfect,” Mike says, whispering, as if they’re in a theater.

Jay snickers. He’s flushed when Mike looks over at him, eyes on the screen.

“Get in here, dumb ass,” Sid says, reaching over to throw the passenger side door open for Dex.

“No thanks,” Dex says, walking again. “I’m not in the mood for you right now.”

“Fuck your mood, cock breath! Get in here, now!”

Dex groans and does what Sid told him to, like always. Mike loves the shot of them from the backseat when Dex is in the passenger seat and Sid is staring at him, both of them in silhouette. The audio isn’t great, but something about the tinny sound makes Dex’s agitated breathing even more pathetic, so it works. 

“What happened to you, geek?” Sid asks, poking Dex hard in the shoulder.

“Nothing,” Dex says, wincing and leaning away from him. “Just-- Got into a fight with my dad.” 

“And what? He threw you out?”

“No! I was walking, after we fought, and it started raining. It’s not that fucking complicated. Are you going to drive or what?”

“Where do you want me to drive you to?”

Sid poses the question like it’s a threat, and the next shot is a close up on his face. Mike still hates watching himself act and doesn’t think his menace as Sid is convincing-- Or as Ronnie, or the biker who fucks the Amish kid. Others have told him that’s not the case, Jay included. 

_You used to scare me a little_ , Jay told him once. He was drunk and later denied it.

“Huh?” Sid says, jabbing Dex in the shoulder again when he doesn’t answer. 

“Ow,” Dex says, again wincing like that really hurt, because it did. Sid doesn’t know why yet.

“You wimp,” Sid says, and he puts the car back in drive. “I know where I’m taking you. Know exactly where you want to go.”

“Where?” Dex asks, muttering this out grudgingly. 

“To a secluded little spot near the ravine where I park sometimes,” Sid says. “I call it Fuck Butt Point.”

“Oh my god,” Dex says, and he laughs a little, which was not written into the scene. It’s authentic Jay amusement that they left in, though they did other takes where Dex sounded more fearful or annoyed. This one just felt right. 

“Still like that take?” Mike asks, giving Jay a sideways glance. 

“I like everything about how this video turned out,” Jay says, and he crosses his arms over his chest, eyes locked on the screen. “Except the one part I want to cut, like I said.”

“I’m assuming it hasn’t happened yet.”

“Nope, not yet.”

There’s some footage of Sid’s car driving up to Fuck Butt Point, which was actually just another spot on Mike’s uncle’s property. The shots were tricky to get in the rain, but Lance was a good sport and the equipment survived. The actual weather gives this one a feeling of authenticity that still makes Mike feel proud, despite all his less savory feelings associated with the inclusion of Lance in their process and how it eventually made the whole thing seem less intimate and special, more like a job. 

“So, here we are,” Sid says to Dex when he’s turned off the engine. Dex is sulky in the passenger seat, scowling out the window at the rain. “Good news,” Sid says, reaching over Dex’s knees and opening the glove compartment. He pulls out a bottle of lube and gives Dex a smug grin, waving it in his face. “I got supplies. You want to get in the backseat, or should I throw you back there myself?”

Dex snatches the lube in an angry gesture that brings a brief moment of genuine shock to Sid’s face. Grabbing it aggressively was an improv decision on Jay’s part, and Mike had been surprised for real, then curious about where Jay was going with it. 

“God,” Dex says, unbuckling his seatbelt. “I should have known it would be you in the car when it pulled up. Creepy stalker.” 

“I’m not-- Hey!” Sid smacks Dex hard on the ass as Dex climbs into the backseat, making himself vulnerable to this and shouting in pain before turning to glower at Sid and settling into the backseat. “Don’t flatter yourself,” Sid says, climbing back after him and shoving him down so that he’s on his back across the seat, pinned under Sid’s angry stare. “It’s a small town, bitch. Nobody’s stalking your pathetic dweeb ass, jesus.” 

“Whatever you say,” Dex says, fake sweet, his eyes still hard. “You’re the one who climbs in through my window when you’re drunk.”

“Maybe I won’t anymore, and you can just lie there waiting for me with your slutty ass empty, crying and wishing I’d show.” 

“Now who’s flattering himself?”

Sid grunts and puts his forearm across Dex’s throat, leaning in until he croaks a little at the pressure, his eyes going wide between his glasses. This was improv, too, and Mike’s heart is pounding almost as hard as it was when he did this. It’s not in the movie or even in the outtakes, but he’d paused and backed off to ask Jay if he was okay. Jay had glowered at him and said yes, of course, and don’t break scene again. 

“This is where you freaked out,” Jay says, muttering this under his breath with a smirk that pisses Mike off. 

“Asking if you were okay after I made you choke was freaking out,” Mike says sarcastically, nodding. “Right, noted.” 

“Choke-- It was hardly a choke, I was just surprised, it was perfect! God, you always acted like I was so fragile.”

“I loved you and I wanted to protect you. Forgive me. I know it was a living nightmare that you couldn’t wait to escape from.” 

“Jesus, Mike,” Jay says, and before Mike can spit more bitterness at him Jay reaches over to settle his hand on Mike’s bicep, silencing him with the warmth of the contact. When Mike turns to meet his gaze, Jay’s eyes are soft. “Sorry, ah-- I’m sorry.”

For which part? Mike wants to scream. He just shrugs and looks back at the screen. Jay leaves his hand in place for a few seconds longer before taking it away with a sigh. 

Sid has turned Dex onto his hands and knees and has Dex’s pants and underwear pulled down to his knees, his ass spread open in Sid’s hands. He spits once on Dex’s exposed hole, which was more improv, and Mike still guiltily loves the way it makes Jay jerk with surprise in his grip. Mike didn’t pause to ask Jay if that was okay that time, and when he sneaks a glance at Jay he can see the blush spreading outward on his cheeks. 

Mike smirks at the screen, pleased. Seems like Jay didn’t remember that part until now.

“I could just fuck you with this,” Sid says, working his spit in against Dex’s hole with this thumb, circling and pushing in just a little. Dex moans against the car seat, and there’s a close up of Jay’s face to show that this moan is somewhere between a protest and an expression of deep arousal, because he’s turned on by the fact that Sid has lube, that they both know he’ll use it, but that he’s reminding Dex that he doesn’t have to, because he has total control here. 

Their actual fuck in this movie is pretty standard: Sid kneeling behind Dex on the backseat, plowing into him from behind and spitting curses and taunts while Dex moans and drools for it, glasses crooked and little hands curled into fists while he takes it. Eventually he whispers Sid’s name, when he’s getting close. This was not a shoot when Jay forgot himself and said ‘Mike,’ to Mike’s disappointment. He’d been hoping for that, to show Lance up, or something. Also just because it was his favorite thing in the world, back then. 

“Yeah,” Sid says through gritted teeth when he’s getting close, throwing his head back and pummelling Dex’s ass, hands tight around his skinny waist. “Fuck, yeah, hah-- I can feel that, can feel you squeezing me, mhmm, like a good boy. _Yeah_ , you, just-- Milk that cock with your hungry hole.” 

“That’s it,” Jay says, pointing at the screen with a grimace and yanking Mike back from the danger of maybe getting a little hard. “That’s the line I want to cut." Jay gives Mike a glance like he’s vaguely disgusted by the look on his face. “What?”

“Just surprised,” Mike says, jerking his gaze back to the screen and shifting in his chair. He thought it would be something else, something that hasn’t happened in the video yet. “I like that line.”

“Well-- Of course you do, but--”

“Of course I do?”

“Never mind-- Just. It hits as cheesy to me.” 

“Guess that’s why you came about ten seconds after I fed it to you, huh?” 

Jay grunts and they both watch as he comes on Mike’s dick in the video, whimpering and shooting his load onto the backseat. 

“Oh god yeah!” Sid says, fucking him through it, almost growling under his breath. “Fuck, you little shit, blowing your load all over my car, gonna make you lick that up, unhh, jesus it’s suh, so-- God- _damn_ , you get so tight when you come on my cock--”

Sid comes and falls over Dex’s back with a gasp, panting against Dex’s rucked-up t-shirt. Dex makes a soft, tiny _ooh_ noise that Mike had never noticed Jay made whenever Mike had just fucked him particularly hard and fell onto him, until they were making these videos. He shuffles in his seat and tries not to look like he’s trying not to get hard, because jesus that noise and what it meant-- That Jay was sensitive, overwhelmed, still recovering from his own orgasm when Mike pumped his in hard. 

“D’you hear that?” Sid asks, still breathless, still inside Dex, running his fingers through Dex’s damp hair. “Hmm, dork? You’re gonna clean my car seat with your tounge.” 

“Get off,” Dex says, bucking his hips back. “You’re so heavy.”

“Sorry your puny body can’t handle the weight of a real man. Your slutty ass sure handles his dick well enough.”

“Oh god,” Dex says, but it’s really Jay saying that, criticizing Mike’s improvised dialogue. It works well enough, and Mike is glad they left it in. 

Sid licks the back of Dex’s neck twice, bites the shell of his ear just hard enough to get him to whimper, then pulls out. He digs around on the floor of the car for a towel that Mike remembers them having a debate about-- Would Sid have a towel in his car, even a crusty old one on the floor in the backseat? Ultimately Mike won out and the towel appeared.

“Take your shirt off,” Sid says after he’s toweled at Dex’s ass. “It’s soaked.” 

“So what? I don’t have another one.”

“Looky here,” Sid says, reaching down to pull a sweatshirt from the floor in the backseat. “Good thing I’m such a slob. Put this on, dummy. Can’t have my best comedump dying on me. Corpse fucking ain’t my thing.” 

“I’m not gonna die,” Dex says, but he peels the wet t-shirt off with a sigh and reaches for the sweatshirt that Sid is offering.

“The fuck is that?” Sid says before he can take it, frowning down at the hand-shaped bruise on Dex’s bicep, which Mike had carefully painted on Jay’s arm after the actual fuck scene, with Lance sitting quietly in the front scene and staring while the rain pounded the roof of the car. Nothing before that had been especially awkward, but Mike kept wanting to tell Lance to get lost in the aftermath. 

“That-- Oh.” Dex jerks his arm away when Sid tries to put his hand on it for a closer look. “Nothing.”

“Like hell. Who kicked your ass, geek? Tell me!”

“Stop yelling at me!” Dex says, his voice wavering perfectly. Mike had been gut punched, imagining what he would have felt if Jay had ever said what Dex was about to say to Sid. “My dad, okay? I told you. We fought.”

“He--”

“He’s broken my ribs before. Twice. This is nothing. I’m fine.”

Sid and Dex sit staring at each other, both breathing hard for different reasons, both waiting to see what the other will do next. Mike’s heart is slamming, and he feels like he’s waiting, too, with Jay at his side, though of course they both know how this ends. 

“That’s fucked,” Sid says. “My old man clocked me once. I hit him back. That was that.”

“Oh, you’re right, I’m so sorry,” Dex says, spitting and furious but getting choked up, too. “Good advice, I’ll just try to fight back, that’ll fix it.”

“That’s not what I meant! Fuck!”

“You-- Fuck you,” Dex says, weakly, before turning away from Sid and burying his face in his hands. 

Sid doesn’t move for a long time. Mike remembers debating about how long the shot should hold on him thinking about what to do next. They settled on a full fifteen seconds of near motionless tension, with Dex sniffling into his hands, his glasses pushed away from his eyes and resting over his fingers. 

“Put this on, creampie,” Sid says, pushing the sweatshirt into Dex’s lap. “And your pants, too. We gotta get out of here, uh. Cops come sniffing around if you’re parked for too long.” 

Dex dresses without speaking. Mike glances at Jay, not surprised to see his jaw is tight and his face is red. Onscreen, Sid climbs back into the driver seat once his dick is tucked away and sighs, starts the car. Dex moves slowly into the passenger seat, as if he’s sore in multiple ways now. That was Mike’s direction, and Jay conveys it perfectly, looking broken open and defensive in perfect measure, turning away from Sid to glower out at the rain after he’s buckled himself in, wearing Sid’s sweatshirt. 

Sid says nothing in the protracted driving scenes that follow. Mike had assumed people who just wanted to beat off to a video of a big, mean guy fucking a sad, small one would have turned it off by now, but he didn’t care. He wanted to offer something more for the people who were still watching, the ones who cared about these characters. 

“Where-- You passed my house,” Dex says, turning to Sid with an irritated look that shows he doesn’t understand yet that it’s intentional.

Sid says nothing. He looks angry, stares straight ahead at the windshield.

“What now?” Dex asks, sounding angry, too, but also like he’s at his breaking point, ready to give up on anything good ever happening to him. “You’re going to take me somewhere and murder me--”

“Yeah, that’s the plan,” Sid says, so bitterly sarcastic that it’s clear he feels offended. 

“Great,” Dex says, crossing his arms over his chest. “Fine by me.”

Instead, they end up at Sid’s shitty apartment, which is just Mike and Jay’s apartment, made to look extra shitty. Sid doesn’t say a word, just cocks his head to indicate Dex should follow him inside. The last shots are of a showerhead as water streams from it, then steams as it heats up. Shower curtain rings clink on the bar overhead. There’s a series of mildly artful shots of clothes being removed, vulnerable skin and bare limbs being exposed. Then Sid’s big hand takes Dex’s and pulls him into the shower with him. 

The final shot is of the two of them under the shower water, Sid holding Dex’s face in his hands and staring down into his eyes, his thumbs moving just slightly on Dex’s cheeks as Dex stares up into Sid’s eyes in disbelief, still looking a little frightened that this must be too good to be true. The bruise his father gave him is visible on his arm. Jay had to be careful to hold it out of the water so the makeup wouldn’t wash off, and they had to get the shot in one take, because just the steam made it start to bleed and drip away a little before long. 

Cut to black, then credits, no music. 

Mike looks over at Jay and sniffs when Jay turns to meet his eyes.

“I was sure that would be the part you wanted to cut,” Mike says. 

Jay flinches as if struck, frowns.

“Are you crazy?” he asks, rolling his chair away from Mike’s as if he needs new distance between them. “That’s the emotional turning point for the whole series, just--” He looks away and laughs unhappily at he back of his throat before returning his gaze to Mike’s, looking again like Mike just hit him. “You really think I don’t have a heart, huh?”

Mike has to look away. His face is getting hot, and he’s not sure if he wants to apologize or say, well, can you fucking blame me?

“Leave the ‘milk me with your hungry hole’ line in,” Jay says, with such bitter recrimination that Mike almost laughs, just for how absurd their lives are. “Leave it like it is, I don’t give a fuck. Keep all your cheesy stuff. The idea is cheesy anyway. That-- Someone could get rescued like that, over and over, and-- It’s not real, so. It doesn’t have to sound real.” 

“Agreed,” Mike says, grabbing for the mouse. “Glad you can see my point of view.” 

Jay sniffs and says nothing else until Mike starts messing with the levels in the car scenes and Jay says he’s ruining the effect. They fight about more mundane things for the rest of the work day, ignoring everything else. Mike jokes that they should name the car sex short ‘Milk That Cock with Your Hungry Hole’ and Jay doesn’t laugh. Ultimately they name it ‘It’s a Small Town, Bitch,’ which Mike thinks is appropriately suggestive of the larger themes of the series and how this has changed things for the characters. Jay shrugs and nods.

The sun is going down by the time Mike drives Jay home. They stayed at work in the editing suite for longer than they usually do, both of them waiting for some kind of emotional closure that didn’t come: either a fight or a mutual jerk off or just some inappropriate, wild laughter. Mike sighs when he pulls up to the spot in the parking deck where he usually drops Jay off, near the lobby doors. 

“Hey, um,” Jay says, staring down between his knees, where he’s clasped his hands together. His shoulders are a little tense, raised slightly. “Do you want some dinner?” he asks. 

“Dinner? Oh--”

“Like. I’m gonna make something, for myself, and there’s always too much, the leftovers--”

“Yeah,” Mike says, rescuing him. “Sounds good. I’ll find a space.”

Mike parks the car, and his heart is in this throat by the time they’re riding up to Simon’s penthouse together in the elevator. Jay is playing with his phone, acting like this is no big deal, and maybe it isn’t, to him. Mike’s whole body is singing, down to his bones, just for having the time he spends with Jay extended into the evening. He can mentally, emotionally deal with being away from Jay, for the most part. He had no choice but to teach himself how to reorder his thoughts so he could get on with his life, but his body never got over the need to be near to Jay’s and doesn’t understand the complexities that separated them. Everything in him that’s pure touch and want and need is still tethered to everything Jay has that once satisfied all of that so perfectly.

“I was thinking I’d make sesame butter chicken,” Jay says, red-faced when they’re walking into Simon’s place together. 

“Sounds good,” Mike said. It’s a recipe they made up together it the old days, and that might mean something, or not. 

“I’ve been making it with rice flour instead of all purpose. It’s lighter that way and, um. Less greasy.” 

“Rice flour,” Mike says, scanning the place for any sign of Simon, because that sounds like some Simon-originating bullshit. “How’s Simon’s shoot going, by the way?”

“Fine, I think.”

“You hear from him often?”

“I told you, he’s in love with me,” Jay says, tossing this off casually as he goes to the fridge for beers, his back to Mike. “So, yeah. He’s always texting me.”

“How hard that must be for you.”

Jay turns from the fridge with the beers and closes the door harder than necessary. Mike grins to show him he’s just teasing, not mad. Jay sniffs and suppresses an answering smile before going over to the drawer where Simon keeps his bottle opener. 

“Here’s to all the people who are in love with you,” Mike says, toasting Jay with his opened beer. 

“Speaking of that,” Jay says, and he clicks his bottle against Mike’s, takes a sip. “Remember we have the Q&A on my channel tomorrow.”

Nice save, Mike almost says. He gulps from his beer instead.

“Should we rehearse or something?” Mike asks.

“You can’t rehearse for a livestream with audience comments--”

“I know that, dummy, I meant with theoretical questions and what our replies will be. I think we can guess at least half of what we’re gonna be asked about.”

Jay nods. “Let’s just cook first,” he says. “I’ll think about that-- Yeah, after dinner. We could do that. Good idea.” 

Mike appreciates his insistence that they drop the subject for a while, and when they’re cooking together like they used to Mike feels lighter on his feet than he has in weeks, maybe years. Jay talks about industry gossip he’s heard secondhand from Simon, about movies he’s watched while awake here alone late at night, and some about the past, too, including the time he and Mike had a table together at one of the porn conventions, back in 2010. 

“Remember that guy at the table next to us?” Jay asks, grinning because he can tell by Mike’s smile that of course he does. “Who kept trying to talk to us about Charles Manson?”

“That guy was fucking terrifying.”

“Everyone at those things was, god. Do you still do them?”

“Not personally. I send a couple actors to work the table.”

“I should probably meet your actors soon,” Jay says, keeping his eyes on the plates of rice and chicken that he’s dishing up for them. 

“You’ll like ‘em,” Mike says. “They’re like Lance. Sweet and kinda dumb.”

“He wasn’t--” Jay starts to say, and he cracks up when he sees the dubious look on Mike’s face. “Okay, I mean. A little, sometimes.” 

“He’s a trophy wife, Jay. We all knew it was coming.”

“He’s-- Don’t call him a wife! He just wasn’t lucky in his acting career. Potentially we had something to do with that.” 

“We gave him the only good role he ever had!”

“Douchebag frat guy who fucks his roommate? Yeah, he had a lot to work with there.”

This conversation feels surprisingly light, maybe because they’ve both finished a couple of beers. They end up eating out of their laps on Simon’s fancy sofa in the den, a giant screen descending from the ceiling so they can watch _Tremors_ while they eat. It feels so much like old times that Mike has to remind himself twice not to just lean over and settle his shoulder against Jay’s. 

By the time they get around to practicing Q&A questions they’ve both finished another beer and aren’t taking it very seriously. Jay has his knees tucked under him on the couch the way he did when Simon was here, and he’s giggly, holding his hand over his eyes when Mike makes him laugh hard. Mike has his head resting on the back of the couch and his legs spread open maybe wider than they need to be while he grins over at Jay, but who cares. 

“What are you most looking forward to about getting fucked by Mike again?” Mike asks, speaking as one of their potential Q&A participants. 

“Uhhh,” Jay says, laughing, red-faced. “The part where he puts his cock inside me and moves it in and out.”

“Oh my god,” Mike says, throwing his hand out in Jay’s direction without quite making contact. Jay laughs harder, thoroughly amused with himself. “That’s perfect, actually. Be a smart ass. They’ll love that.”

“You love that,” Jay says, tipping over so his head is on the back of the sofa, too. “For these fans, you have to kiss their asses, believe me. At least a little.” 

Jay makes them some coffees with Simon’s fancy espresso machine so Mike can sober up a little before drive home. He doesn’t feel drunk, at least not from booze. Something else is fizzing through him, a kind of ease that he wants to transmute into something less lightweight and more dangerous, like asking Jay if he wants company here overnight, someone to sleep in the foyer and watch the door while Jay sleeps comfortably in his bed, knowing he’s being properly watched over. 

“You should tell me your stalker’s name,” Mike says, when they’re standing in the kitchen together, sipping caffeine. “In case he shows up, you know, uh. While we’re doing all this marketing shit. And I should know what he looks like, too.” 

“I know,” Jay says, mumbling this like he’s been dreading it. “His name is Cody Lambert.”

“Jesus. Sounds like a twink pornstar.”

“Yeah, well, he’s not a twink. Here.” Jay puts his coffee cup aside and pulls out his phone. He does a search for Milwaukee area mugshots on a website and shows Mike with Lambert’s comes up. 

Mike frowns down at the screen. Jay was right that the guy is almost aggressively bland, his eyes a sort of colorless grey and empty-looking, like being arrested for stalking is no big deal. He’s almost baby-faced, with chubby cheeks shaved clean. He’s huge, too, his arrest record listing him as six foot three and 230 pounds. He’s got a receding hairline and a stubby nose. 

“It’s weird because we can’t find any evidence that he tried to contact me online,” Jay says, putting the phone away. “There’s only evidence of the showing up at my door thing and bragging about it to other people. When the police interviewed him about what he was trying ‘achieve’ by going to my apartment he just shrugged. He’s never threatened me like some of the old ones did, but that just makes it creepier, in some weird way.”

“The old ones?” Mike is already plotting how he’ll convince Jay to let him sleep here tonight. That guy’s eyes are going to haunt him. The seeming lack of menace makes them scarier somehow, Jay is right. 

“I’ve never had people showing up at my door before,” Jay says. “But online-- Whatever. People say things. They threaten you with stuff they’ve been able to find out about you. You remember how it was. When you’re, uh. Exposed, in porn, like, vulnerable, you know. People pounce on that.” 

“You sleeping any better?” Mike asks, as a lead up to begging to stay over.

“No,” Jay says. “You?”

“I-- I dunno. I think once we get started on production on the new project, I’ll be calmer. But it’s kinda nerve wracking to wait for Under the Lake’s notes. I haven’t had to deal with other people’s notes since, uh. Since you.”

“Didn’t you work with Len?”

“Just as DP, and I did whatever he wanted.” Mike doesn’t add that he was so depressed he was basically sleepwalking through his life at that point. 

“I’m sleepy,” Jay says, rubbing at his face. “Coffee doesn’t do much for me anymore. I’m gonna head to bed, you okay to drive home?”

“I dunno. Maybe I should sleep here.” 

“You’d have to sleep on the couch or in Simon’s bed,” Jay says, and he grins at the look on Mike’s face at the suggestion. “There’s only one guest bedroom.”

And of course Jay is staying there, and Mike is not invited into that bed, which was what he really wanted. Feeling pathetic, he shakes his head and puts his coffee cup down on the counter. 

“Guess I’d better not risk fucking up my back on that couch,” he says. “It’s barely comfortable enough to sit on.”

“Yeah, Simon’s all form over function. Look at his movies.”

“Ha. Savage.” 

“You look tired, Mike. He wouldn’t care if you slept in his bed--”

“I’d rather not, and I’m fine. Are you okay, um. Here? By yourself?”

“Of course.” Jay sniffs and frowns. “I invited you up here so we could hang out. Not because I’m-- Whatever you think I am.” 

“What-- What? Huh?” 

“Ugh, god, I’m too tired to make any sense.” Jay rubs his hands over his face and shakes his head. “Never mind. It just kills me a little, watching those old videos where I’m this poor battered thing who needs you to save him--”

“You’re the one who wrote the Dex gets beat up by his dad backstory, I didn’t even want it!”

“I know, and I don’t regret it! It’s one of my favorite things about the series. But he’s a character Mike, and I’m-- Not him. I’m fine.” 

Mike wants to kiss Jay on the forehead-- Aggressively, as a show of dominance. He resists the urge, though his hands are aching to reach for some part of Jay and squeeze him a little, to remind himself Jay is really here, that he’s not just a ghost who smells good, standing this close, coffee breath and all. 

“Please don’t act like this is easy for me,” Jay says. “And like I-- Never cared, or put my heart into those videos. I did.”

“I’m sorry,” Mike says, meaning it. He’s also leaning closer, wanting to press Jay to the kitchen counter and just collapse onto him. He would settle for being held for ten seconds. 

“I know,” Jay says, soft. He touches Mike’s arm and keeps his eyes averted when Mike stares down at him. “You should go, if you’re gonna.” 

If I’m gonna what, Mike almost says. He restrains himself, takes a deep breath and steps backward, nodding.

By the time he gets to the parking deck he feels less confident that he’s not too drunk to drive. It’s late, but the weather is nice, summer is coming, and Milwaukee’s bars are still buzzing as he wanders the streets, feeling a bit like a ghost himself. He avoids the bars and ends up at Candy’s apartment, which is about ten blocks from Simon’s building. She’s awake when he answers the door, and has company, but it’s just her sister, who’s apparently in town for a visit and who always liked Mike. They’re both drunk on wine and having a girls’ night, watching movies, in high spirits and glad to see him. They open a new bottle of wine to pour him a glass when he joins them, stretching out on the sofa while they huddle up together under a blanket on the love seat. They’re watching _Don’t Tell Mom the Babysitter’s Dead_ , and it’s almost over.

“This was our favorite as kids,” Candy says. “I loved the corndog boy.” 

“Me too,” Mike says, though Christina Applegate’s character was the one he beat off to in this particular ensemble. He’s thinking of Jay, and he can see Candy reading this off his face when she glances over at him, shaking her head. 

“I’m not even gonna ask,” she says. 

“Ask me in the morning. Can I sleep here?”

“Your eyes are already shut, Mike. Yes, you’re sleeping here. G’night.” 

He wakes up at moments as they talk and put on another movie, but is pretty out of it for the most part. When he wakes up the room is dark and Candy and her sister have retired to the bedroom and guestroom, respectively. He rolls over and buries his face against the back of the couch, and when he wakes again it’s morning and he can smell coffee. 

“Bethie is still asleep,” Candy says when Mike slumps into the kitchen to join her, rubbing at his muggy eyes. Candy is wearing a short silk robe that emphasizes her soft curves and makes him wonder if they might have fucked last night, if her sister hadn’t been here when he showed up at her door. She gives him a look like she knows what he’s thinking, and the answer is no. “Stop ogling me,” she says, walking over to put a mug of coffee in front of him. “What happened last night?”

“Nothing. Can I have milk and sugar?”

“I’m getting it!” she says, digging through the fridge. “Spoiled brat. You’re lucky I was in a good mood last night. I could see the Jay-kicked-me look all over your face.”

“He didn’t kick me.” 

“Bullshit. How’s it going?”

She sets the milk and sugar down for him and puts her elbows on the kitchen island, where Mike is seated on an uncomfortable stool, feeling fine outside of his emotional hangover. 

“It’s going okay,” he says. “We, uh. Well. Do you want to hear the dirty details, or--”

“How dirty are we talking?”

Mike checks over his shoulder to make sure the guestroom door is still shut. 

“We jerked off in front of each other,” he says. “A couple of weeks ago.” 

Candy recoils, her nose wrinkling. 

“That doesn’t seem smart,” she says, clearly choosing her words carefully.

“I know, but-- Actually, it does. If we’re going to fuck on camera, we have to practice off camera first, uh. Right?”

“Whose idea was that,” Candy asks, deadpan, like she already knows. 

Mike doesn’t need to respond. He just sips coffee and sighs. 

Candy straightens up and stares at him. He can’t decide if she looks pitying or just like she can’t believe she ever fell in love with such a sad sack. Potentially it’s both. 

“So he’s single,” she says. 

“He’ll always be single,” Mike says, and then he feels cruel. “Or so he thinks. Yeah, anyway. He is. He thinks this big shot director guy who’s going to be in the movie is in love with him.” 

“What now?” Candy says, pinching the bridge of her nose like it’s too early for this. 

“Yeah, um. You know, he has to get with some other guys, too, in the movie. So he wants one of them to be this guy he’s already fooled around with. And at first I was kind of like, threatened? I guess. Because this guy is super rich and makes actual studio movies. We went to college with him, actually. I don’t know-- Is it weird that I feel okay?”

“You came over here unannounced last night because you feel okay?”

“I-- Well-- I’ve-- What does me showing up here have to do with it?”

“Mike. I can tell when you don’t want to be alone with your-- Feelings,” she says, pronouncing that last word with some distaste and reminding him again of Jay. 

“I never want to be alone with those, really,” he confesses, muttering this down into his coffee cup.

“I know. But Jay has been, uh. Nice? And jerking off while you watch, also?”

“Just that one time. He thinks we should work our way up to fucking in private before we shoot that scene.” 

“Do you think he’s still in love with you?”

Mike doesn’t like the way she phrased that, as if it’s mostly a question about what Mike thinks, or wants to think, and not about what’s really going on. 

“I’m not sure he ever was,” Mike mumbles.

“Oh, bullshit. Do you say the same about me?”

“No! I mean-- No?”

She rolls her eyes. Mike wonders if this conversation would feel better or worse if they’d had a friendly fuck last night. 

“I don’t really know Jay,” Candy says. “It just feels like I do, because I’ve spent a lot of time drinking with you, and you talked about him at great length almost every time you drank--”

“Not every time!”

“I said almost! I just-- I know enough about him to feel worried for you. He’s got-- This other guy, and he wants him involved with your movie? And he’s coaching you toward sex offsceen? I dunno, Mike. I just don’t want you to get your hopes up and then get crushed by him again.”

“I’m not-- Believe me, my hopes are in the gutter, when it comes to, uh. Me and Jay and-- Anything beyond getting this production and these remasters in the can and moving on.” 

“I hope that’s true, for your sake.” 

They gossip about her sister and her family back in Arizona for a bit before Mike thanks her for the coffee and says he has to get to work. With the Q&A coming up later, he and Jay are taking the day off of working on the old videos, which is a godsend in the state Mike is in. He feels disgusting and doesn’t want to entangle himself in any Jay interactions for at least five hours. 

After showering and eating some breakfast at his apartment, he calls Rich up and fills him in on the latest developments, with some omissions. He doesn’t tell Rich about jerking off with Jay. There are some things that Candy understands better than Rich can, and Mike doesn’t want another earful of advice about how he should be careful letting his guard down around Jay, though it’s just as likely Rich would only sigh and change the subject.

“He wants to meet the guys from the studio,” Mike says after they’ve chatted about how the remastering is going and Mike’s feelings on Jay’s stalker. “The ones he’ll be acting with, presumably, if he doesn’t veto Rocky and Dima.” 

“I had an idea about that,” Rich says, and then, “What?” when Mike laughs in surprise. “Listen! Marianne is having a little barbecue this weekend. I want you to come. You should meet her, uh. We’re getting kind of serious.”

Mike grunts. He’d figured as much, since Rich hasn’t called him for days, even with this Jay shit going on. 

“Fine,” Mike says. “What’s that got to do with Jay meeting his co-stars?”

“What do you think? All the studio people are invited, so she can get to know everybody, and I invited Jack and his wife, too. You should bring Jay. That way he can meet the other actors in a casual setting and see they’re just normal dudes like him, like the rest of us.” 

“I guess that works. I don’t know that I’d describe me or Jay as normal dudes, though. Or Dima, for that matter. You and Rocky are.”

“Whatever-- Are you okay, uh--? You sound kind of. Weird.” 

“See, that’s what I mean. I’m weird, Rich. I’m a weird guy.”

“Mike-- Are you drinking?”

“No! Fucker. I’m just-- I had a long night. Long day, yesterday. A somewhat long and trying life, to be honest.”

“You’re dramatic. The barbecue is on Saturday, come over around two o’clock, bring Jay and some beers. What do you have going on today?”

“A livestream Q&A with Jay on his channel.” 

“Ohhh christ. Good luck.”

“Yeah, thanks. You should tune in, give us some softball questions.”

“Like what? What’s your favorite color?” Rich cackles at his own joke. “Man, I would prepare for all hardballs if I were you. And some sinking sliders and screwballs, too.”

“All your baseball metaphors sound so erotic, Rich.”

“Eugh,” Rich says. “I’m hanging up. Just brace yourself for people being nasty and awful on that stream thing.” 

“I can handle it.”

“I know you can, on your own behalf, but-- Mike?”

“What, Rich. What.”

“If people start being rude to Jay, you can’t freak out and tell them to fuck off and end the stream. You’re under contract--”

“Yeah, yeah, I know! Goodbye!”

“Bye, asshole!”

Mike hangs up, unperturbed. It’s not unusual for phone calls with Rich to end like this, and there has never really been any real animosity between them, even when Mike fucked off to Arizona without keeping in touch very well for years. As soon as he came back, Rich was there for him, no questions asked or complaints lodged.

Mike takes a nap so he’ll look decent later, and less like a lovesick schmuck who slept on his ex-wife’s couch. When he wakes up he lingers in bed, playing around on his phone and looking at the forum on Jay’s site, where the Q&A has been advertised. There’s a thread about it in anticipation, and none of the comments are particularly alarming or even interesting. Mike puts his phone aside and just stares up at the ceiling, wondering what Jay is doing in the last few hours before Mike will turn up to get ready to broadcast with him from Simon’s place, where they’ve debated a few different locations to use. 

Attempting to stop thinking about Jay makes Mike wonder what Sid and Dex would be doing right now, in the present, if they were real. His lip curls a little when he remembers Jay saying the whole thing was cheesy, unrealistic. As if it needed to be said about a series that eventually included love potions and alien abduction. In the last one, Sid rescues Dex from some aliens and they have passionate reunion sex once they’re back home in Sid’s bed. 

“What’s the point of this anymore,” Jay had asked when they were done recording and Lance had gone home. 

“What?” Mike had been close to drifting off, and the sense that some kind of sea change was suddenly in the air between them made him leave his face buried in his pillow. 

“Sid and Dex. We made them into too much of a couple or whatever. Even when Dex is getting threatened by an alien probe, I mean-- What’s supposed to be hot about that is you think it might happen, that he might-- But Sid always saves the day. I just think we should start to think about doing a new series.”

“And you have something in mind.” 

And it involves Lance, Mike didn’t need to say. They’d talked about it. He’d known this was coming, and Jay wasn’t wrong. They were running out of Sid and Dex ideas, and the most recent one basically had them riding off into the sunset together. 

“I just think we could go in a racier direction,” Jay said, sharply enough to get Mike to raise his head and meet Jay’s eyes. “Considering we’re making pornography.” 

“Racier,” Mike said. 

“I fucking hate it when you start repeating everything I say because you don’t like it.”

That had been one of their first real fights, there in bed in 2009, and Mike had let Jay win, terrified about what might happen if he didn’t and by the angry blush on Jay’s cheeks. He knew Jay didn’t want to fight either, and that he wasn’t wrong. It still hurt to be called a romantic fool for thinking they could just keep making Sid and Dex videos and actually selling them. The sales were already going down. Ironically, someone posted one online that same year and the interest in them spread to the point that they could barely keep up with shipping out DVDs, but they never made another Sid and Dex video. Jay said he’d gotten too fat to play Dex anyway, which was absurd, but Mike didn’t push him on that or anything else, until it was too late.

Mike sits up in bed and stares down at his phone, wondering if he should send what he’s thinking by text or ask Jay in person when he arrives. He decides a text is safer.

_What if someone on this q &a asks us where Sid and Dex are now?_

He expects Jay to respond with something flippant or even cruel, like a suggestion that they’re both probably dead now. Or that they’re definitely dead, because Jay killed them. 

Mike gives up on waiting for a reply after ten minutes and makes himself get out of bed. He’s already picked out the clothes he’ll wear on the livestream: black t-shirt, jeans, nothing special. He’s let his hair grow out a bit recently, and Jay says it looks good. He’s trying to convince himself this is true, fussing with it in the bathroom mirror, when his phone dings with a new text. 

It’s from Jay. 

_Sid’s band never went anywhere. Dex invented a cure for male pattern baldness. His father tried to steal the patent from him and ended up in jail. Dex became rich and got Lasik surgery and fixed his teeth. Aliens invaded the Earth. Sid knew how to defeat them based on his previous experience and became a famous and well respected general who lead Earth to victory. Dex helped, with some kind of chemical weapon. There’s a statue of them in every town._

Mike reads this three times, beaming like an idiot and wondering how he’ll ever come up with a worthy reply, before Jay sends a second message:

_Oh and they’re still fucking_

_Perfect_ , Mike sends back, feeling uncreative and overwhelmed and like he won’t survive if, going forward, for the rest of his life, he can’t keep sending Jay messages like this and getting replies that hit him like he’s reading the writing on the walls of his own soul, stuff even Mike himself can’t decipher. Only Jay ever has even spoken that language.

*


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An extra long chapter, this one was planned to be about half this length!! But I'm not sure what I was thinking with that plan, because a lot happens here ~~~ Excited to hear what people think about these Developments, as always <3
> 
> **

When Mike arrives at Simon’s penthouse, Jay has groomed himself to perfection in anticipation of the Q&A. He’s wearing a soft purple-grey t-shirt with a v-neck and his usual jeans, has trimmed his beard and styled his hair. He seems nervous.

“Should we just strip and do it from the jacuzzi?” he asks while they’re setting up in the den, with Simon’s tasteful decor as their backdrop. 

“Sure,” Mike says, assuming he’s joking. When he looks up from his laptop and sees Jay’s face he’s not sure that’s the case. “I mean-- Do you want to?”

“I don’t know.” Jay gets up and paces. “I don’t know why I’m nervous. I know what to expect. All the usual crap people ask. And we can pick which questions to answer and which to ignore, it’s totally up to us--”

“C’mere,” Mike says, patting the leather sofa he’s perched on. The laptop is on the coffee table across from it, atop a pile of books that provide a flattering angle. 

Jay hesitates and then crosses the room to sit beside Mike. He’s wearing his Converse, and it’s the first time Mike has seen him with shoes on inside Simon’s penthouse. They must feel like some kind of armor, Mike thinks, and he reaches over to touch Jay’s shoulder, letting his hand settle there and giving him a tentative squeeze. 

“You’re all right,” Mike said. “You’re the pro at this. I might end up looking like an asshole, but that’s okay. That’s my brand.”

“I’m freaking out because it feels so much better to be doing this with someone else,” Jay says, blurting this out in a way that makes Mike glance at the clock on the laptop to see how much time they have left before they go live, because jesus god what is happening. “With you,” Jay adds, reaching over to touch Mike’s leg. “And that’s making me-- Fucking panic, I don’t know why.”

“Panic about what? How you think this Q&A will go?”

“God-- No, just. Forget it, I’m fine.” Jay pinches his eyes shut and pulls his hand away, settling both his hands over his knees. “I don’t know why this is suddenly making everything feel real,” he says, eyes still closed. “But it is. For some reason.” 

“You can always back out,” Mike says, and Jay turns to him, eyes flying open. “You can, I’m serious. I have-- I could pay your penalty fee if you need to break the contract.” 

“I’m not-- Jesus, Mike, it’s just nerves.” Jay sits up straighter and scoffs. “Forget I said anything. God, you are so bad about letting me-- Let this shit escalate, you’re right.” 

“This shit,” Mike says, deadpan, and he curses when he sees his phone is ringing. “It’s fucking Gil,” he says, wanting to pitch the phone across the very large room. “Goddammit--”

“Answer,” Jay says, with such authority that Mike does what he asked without thinking.

“What?” Mike barks. “We’re about to do this--”

“The Q&A, yes, I know, and I can’t wait!” Gil sounds less shouty and ridiculous than usual, which worries Mike instantly. “This will be quick-- Just wanted to let you guys know I’m about to email the studio’s script notes for the feature, and I wanted to sort of give some context for some things--”

“That doesn’t sound like the kind of call that should happen five minutes before we go live,” Jay says. He gives Mike a disbelieving look and shakes his head. It feels so good to be on the same side again that Mike is ready to forget the beginnings of what may have been a fight and never look back, which was always the case. 

“Of course!” Gil says. “You’re right, but I just got this, haa, this sort of last minute email from corporate and I’m a little frantic about it because they’re assuming I went over what to promise or _not_ promise to the audience about the feature content with you guys ahead of time, and I didn’t, sooo-- Well, one of their script notes is that it seems like, ah, Jay is really only going to have sex scenes with you, Mike, aside from the one with Simon--” 

“There are other scenes in there,” Mike says, again wanting to throw the phone. He knew this was coming. 

“Right, like, teasing scenes, though, seems like, and then Jay’s character freaks out and runs away--”

“I can blow more guys if they need me to,” Jay says, and it’s like a dull blade in Mike’s chest, how bland and unconcerned he sounds. “Are you telling us not to specify scene by scene content in this Q&A? Because we weren’t planning to.”

“Oh-- Okay, great! Yes, that’s really all I need you to understand--”

“Done,” Jay says. “Anything else?”

“Ah, not anything especially urgent, no-- You guys doing okay? Together, with-- Everything?”

“Clearly, yes,” Jay says. Mike just sits back and lets him take over, enjoying it. “Bye, Gil.”

“I’ll be in touch soon, and I’m in Chicago next month. Let’s do dinner, okay?” 

“We have to get ready for this thing,” Jay says, and he hangs up, looking at Mike with a groan. “His timing has always been utter shit.”

“Yeah. You-- We can tell Under the Lake to fuck off, if they press on having you do longer scenes with the other guys--”

“I’m not worried about that,” Jay says. “It wasn’t in the contract that I even have to put my mouth on anyone’s dick except yours. They can gripe all they want, but they were too chickenshit to try to put that in writing because they thought it would scare us off the deal, and now they think we’re too stupid to realize they can’t arbitrarily ask for it and expect us to be intimidated into doing it just to please them. Three minutes until we’re live, do you need a glass of water?”

“I-- What-- Sure--”

“You’re right. It’s gonna be fine. Sorry I freaked out. It’s just different, with you. Everything feels more real. Consequential. Anyway.”

Jay touches Mike’s shoulder as he rises from the sofa, then goes to get them some water. Mike stares at the readied laptop, feeling like he’s looking down the barrel of a shotgun. 

By the time Jay returns with two glasses of water they’re both steely eyed and quiet, and Mike has to assume Jay’s stomach is as churned up as his is. Jay sets his glass down right on Simon’s coffee table, no coaster, and Mike follows suit. They look at each other. Mike manages a queasy smile. 

“I’m sorry I escalate you,” Mike says, though now is the worst time for this remark.

Jay shrugs one shoulder. 

“It’s like a chemical thing,” he says. “We react to each other-- I remember-- Your voice, that first day in class, like. It hit me like a tuning fork. Okay, I’m gonna start the recording, ready?”

“Jay--” Mike drags his hand over his face and tells himself to table his replies to those remarks, jesus christ. “Yeah, sure. Ready.”

Jay settles his hand on Mike’s knee. The camera is angled to only show them from mid-chest up. At this point, Mike wouldn’t be surprised if Jay plans to reach over and rub Mike’s cock through his jeans the entire time for extra impact, or just because he’s insane. All he knows is he wouldn’t push Jay’s hand away. 

“There aren’t many ways this could go right,” Jay says, sneaking a look at Mike to grin at him before he starts the stream.

Mike is flushed when he looks at the camera again, though it doesn’t really show up in the video. Fucking Jay. That was one of their things they used to say to each other all the time, one of those inside jokes that felt like a little _I love you_.

“Hey guys,” Jay says, elbows on his knees as he leans toward the camera. He looks perfect onscreen, sweet and sincere and glowy under Simon’s mood lighting. Mike looks like the doughy, humorless bouncer who has been assigned to guard him. “As promised, we’re here for twenty whole minutes of live questions from you in the chat-- Looks like we’re getting some already, that’s great. And we’ll pick some random ones to answer. Before we get started-- Mike, do you want to say anything about how the work’s been going so far?”

“It’s going good, Jay.” 

Mike had hoped for a laugh from Jay, and when he gets one Mike mashes his lips together to keep from beaming at him, trying to maintain the stoic expression that he always stuck to when they promoted the old website. Jay was always his affable self, if a little more friendly toward their audience than he actually felt, and Mike would stay in character just enough to make it feel like he wasn’t showing all of himself. If he did, what would belong only to Jay, or to just the two of them?

He’s sweating, getting in his head about this shit already. He scans the questions that are scrolling upward in a chat window to the right of their images while Jay talks more about what they’ve been working on and what they have planned, in cheerfully general terms that make him sound like a pro at doing these videos, which he is. Meanwhile, Mike has to suppress a sneer when he sees the question _Where are you guys? Whose house is that?_ scrolling by, his mind going to Jay’s stalker.

“So with all that out there, let’s see some questions here, um-- Mike, you want to pick one?”

Mike’s eyes flick to Jay’s, and he can see the lingering terror there, almost inexplicable to even Jay himself-- Consequential, really? Just now? Mike leans toward the computer, frowning and humming under his breath so the broadcast won’t be silent. He feels protective, but isn’t sure he’s ready to rise to the occasion. 

“This guy’s asking if Sid and Dex will be in the new movie,” Mike says, figuring that’s safe enough to answer, though on second thought maybe this was what Gil was telling them not to get into? “Can we talk about that?” Mike asks, shifting closer to Jay when he turns to him.

“I think-- Yeah,” Jay says, nodding. “They’re our intellectual property,” he says, more softly, as if speaking only to Mike. “We can say whatever we want about them.” 

Mike nods, holding Jay’s gaze. Gil seemed more concerned that they not spill that there would only be Mike and Jay sex scenes in the movie, and not a mix of those and scenes with Jay with other people. 

“There’s going to be some new Sid and Dex content released,” Jay says, turning back to the laptop. “Old stuff we shot back then, and bonus scenes, maybe some behind the scenes stuff. But no, they’re not in the movie. The movie has new characters.” 

“Someone’s asking if I’m nervous to be on camera again,” Mike says, pointing. This one is easy enough to answer, and he looks directly into the laptop’s camera when he does. “Yes.”

Jay snickers. “Naw, you’ll do great. Oh, here’s a good one. They’re asking how we came up with the Sid and Dex characters. We haven’t talked about that in a while.”

We haven’t talked about any of this years, Mike thinks, glancing over at him. He looks back at the screen and his eyes skim over a series of questions that they won’t be answering: _why’d you break up, when did you guys get back together, are you fucking irl, are you doing this cause you’re broke???_

“Well,” Mike says, watching as Jay calmly blocks someone who just asked if Mike killed that stripper he was married to or what. “Let’s see, uh. I guess I came up with Sid and Dex. I wanted to play a punk character who smoked and had a shitty attitude. A bully. Like the opposite of how I was in high school. Though Sid and Dex weren’t high schoolers, so. Maybe that’s not relevant.”

“They went to high school together, though,” Jay says: sweetly, helpful, maybe leaning toward Mike a little. “And we weren’t that long out of high school when we came up with them, uh. I guess we still had angst. Dex was like the kid I was afraid everyone saw me as in high school. I was trying to be a punk, meanwhile. For real, in high school. Completely failing, but trying.” 

“So that’s where they came from?” Mike says, looking at Jay. “Our leftover high school angst?”

“Sure,” Jay says, in the ‘I’m tossing you a bone here’ tone that used to drive Mike crazy. Now it’s just comforting, while Mike’s heart slams from a combination of rage over that question about Candy and terror that they’re on a tightrope here with no real plan. “Okay, next question,” Jay says, leaning in to read the rapid scrolling selection. “What are we most excited for when it comes to working together again.”

Mike barely contains a snort. That wasn’t an actual question, at least as far as he could see. All the ones on screen at present are about Simon, Lance, or worse. 

“Well,” Mike says, swallowing. “I did my best work with you, previously.” 

“Yeah, same here,” Jay says. “We’re just really good about inspiring each other, uh, creatively. We’re on the same wavelength for the most part. The improv that just happens organically on set. That’s my favorite, with you.”

“Mhm-hmm,” Mike says, staring at Jay’s face so he won’t see any more questions that enrage him. A snowballing series of questions about Jay’s love life have started appearing, _did you cheat on Mike_ being one of them. 

“What inspired us to work together again,” Jay says, reading this one from the screen after an awkward pause. He glances at Mike for an answer, looking desperate. 

Does he want a real response? Mike wonders, staring back. Jay’s reasons are clear: money. He knows Mike can’t claim the same. 

“Well,” Mike says, slowly. “We got a distribution offer for the older stuff, and it was packaged with a new feature deal. I’d always wanted the Sid and Dex stuff to get a real release, and, uh. Couldn’t pass up the chance to work with Jay again. ‘Cause, uh, like he said. The wavelength, and the-- Organic improv.” 

“Yeah, the timing was just right,” Jay says, shrugging at the laptop like: no big deal. “Obviously we needed a break, but we still have a lot of respect for each other and the work we did together, so. There was no reason not to, basically.”

Mike hates how unfairly pragmatic Jay gets, and how he pretends, or doesn’t, that everything rolls right off his back no matter how heavy. He glances at the scrolling questions, fuming. 

This is boring, something in Mike says as his eyes scan the questions. It’s the same thing that makes Jay say yes to everything reckless and half-joking thing Mike has ever suggested. They mirror each other in this way, which is why they probably shouldn’t be together, least of all now, here, doing this.

“Here’s one,” Mike says, watching it ascend as others push it upward. “Do we have any regrets?”

Mike turns to Jay, smiling mildly, mimicking Jay’s everything-is-fine-who-cares attitude while probably looking like a monster, to Jay, who stares at him for a moment, lips parted.

“About what?” Jay asks. He’s addressing this to Mike, not the chat.

“Oh, anything.” Mike sits back and scratches at his throat, already having some major regrets about what he’s doing right now. “It’s an open question.” 

“I see.” Jay looks away, at nothing in particular. “Hmm. That’s kinda hard for me to answer.” 

“Why’s that, Jay.”

“Because my biggest regret is going to film school, ‘cause I didn’t finish and I paid a fuckin’ fortune to mostly learn things I already knew or could have taught myself, but I also met you there, so.” 

Jay turns to stare at Mike like, how do you like them apples, fucker? 

And Mike can’t help but grin and love him for it, because he deserved that, and because Jay is saying, maybe, that everything that’s gone wrong in his life was worth it, because he got Mike out of the deal, at least for a while. 

“Wouldn’t that be your greatest regret of all?” Mike asks, teasing. “Meeting me?”

“Oh, shit, you’re right!” Jay says. He’s mugging, doing a bit that will be obvious for the stream, his eyes bright. “What’s yours, smart ass?”

“My what, regret?”

“Yeah, you obviously had something in mind when you picked that question.”

Mike’s eyebrows go up a bit, because that sounded like the real Jay, the kind of actual candid moment Mike sought out while watching Jay’s videos and streams for years, never finding one that so resembled anything authentic till now. 

“I regret being a shitty businessman when we first started out,” Mike says. “And letting all our all stuff get so widely passed around that we couldn’t get real distribution until now. But at the same time, like you said-- I can’t even say that I regret it, entirely, because for free online is also how a lot of people first saw our stuff, and part of me is glad it was out there. I’m glad it has this following, however we got here. And I’m glad we’re taking the reins back now, because I think the old videos are gonna be better than ever when we release them, uh, yeah. Now I just sound like a bullshitter, but it’s true.” 

“You don’t sound like a bullshitter,” Jay says, turning back to the screen. 

The questions are moving in a nonstop blur, and Mike isn’t sure if he should take that as applause or jeers. He feels guilty for how polished and pat his answer just sounded, but it’s not like he was going to be truthful, or like Jay would have forgiven him for saying anything about what he really regrets in front of an audience. All of Mike’s regrets have the same caveat, anyway: he regrets letting Jay always get so out of control, but what the fuck would their lives be like if he hadn’t? There’s so much of it, that came along so late in the game, that Mike wouldn’t take back for anything.

Well, for almost anything.

The rest of the Q&A is uneventful, Jay in full slick entertainer mode and Mike holding himself back more carefully, mostly grunting replies and laughing in a way that’s probably visibly insincere. He’s exhausted by the time the twenty minutes are up, and schooling himself not to even look at the barrage of questions that keep coming like machine gun fire, so jarred by some of them that he wants to knock the laptop to the floor and stomp on it. 

“Jesus Christ,” he says when they’ve ended the stream and logged off, laptop lid closed and Jay standing up to stretch like he just completed a work out. Mike stands, too, and drags his hand over his face. “I don’t know how you fucking do this, man. I feel like I just stood in front of a firing squad.”

“It wasn’t that bad,” Jay says. “What the fuck was that regrets question, though, asshole?”

“That’s--” Mike swallows and turns to face him. “I’m sorry, but. You handled it perfectly.” 

“That was mean.”

Mike opens his mouth to argue, or ask why, then he just nods and stares at the floor.

“I’m still mean sometimes,” he says. “Sorry.” 

“It’s-- Okay, I guess, but. God, I just hate never knowing if you’re on my side or not.” 

“Of course I’m on your side! Fuck, even when Simon’s on your side, so am I.” 

“The hell does that mean?”

“That I could be acting like a much bigger dick?”

“You want me to thank you?” Jay asks, eyebrows shooting up. 

“Maybe!”

Jay snorts and goes for the kitchen. Mike follows him, not sure if he’s being sheepish or aggressive. Jay has always brought out some combination of the two in him. 

“So,” Mike says, watching Jay take out a bottle of wine from the little chiller that’s concealed in a cabinet beside Simon’s fridge. “We’re alone now. Do you really not regret it?”

“What, film school?”

“No, Jay. Me. Us.” 

“Are you joking?” Jay says, turning to him, holding the neck of the wine bottle. 

“No, unfortunately. It’s a serious question, so treat it with--”

“Of course not!” Jay is near shouting, and he slams the bottom of the wine bottle onto the kitchen island so hard that Mike winces in anticipation of it shattering and splattering the whole kitchen like blood spray. “You fucking-- I was with you for almost ten years!”

“You-- Well, that’s--”

“And not because of work! You were my best friend, and the best lay I’ve ever had, and the only person who ever treated me like I wasn’t just some pathetic urchin or stupid bimbo or some combination of both-- Mike, goddammit. If you think I regret you then you don’t even fucking know me at all, so don’t-- Don’t ask me that.”

Jay yanks open the drawer where the corkscrew is kept and digs through it angrily, scattering Simon’s high end kitchen tools about. When he’s found the corkscrew he opens the bottle of wine in a series of jerky motions, his mouth pressed in a tight line, cheeks red, eyebrows drawn together. 

“I’m just being insecure,” Mike says, with effort, when he can speak again. “I do know you.”

Jay doesn’t respond, but when he goes for the cabinet with the wine glasses, he gets two down.

“But you-- You have to give me a little credit here,” Mike says, walking cautiously toward the kitchen island. “Considering, uh. The last thing you said to me. Before I left.”

“Yeah, you left!” Jay says, smacking his palm on the counter, face blazing when he meets Mike’s eyes again. “And, okay, it was fucked up and mean, what I said, and I didn’t think you’d take it that seriously, but I thought-- You know, I was too ugly for porn, and every day was a fucking nonstop humiliating reminder of that once I started to get too fat for it, too, and that’s all I fucking meant, and I know it came out wrong, but you left, Mike, you _left_. I thought you would come back or at least fucking call me, and even after two years, I thought, fine. Now he’s finally fucking back, now we can fix it, maybe. But you came back married to someone else, so. So I knew you weren’t coming back for me at all.” 

Jay stares at the opened wine bottle for a moment before picking it up and gulping from it directly, leaving both glasses on the island. 

Mike is speechless, his hands shaking at his sides while he attempts to process what he just heard. He watches Jay pour a glass of wine, and after he’s poured another Mike fully expects to have it thrown in his face. Jay only pushes it toward him on the island, aggressively enough to make it slosh over the rim a bit but not tip over. 

“So,” Jay says, after he’s swallowed more wine, now from his glass. “I know what you were really asking, if I regret saying that thing that made you run away and never look back, and yeah, I do, Mike. I really fucking do. But it’s done, and. You making me say it was my fault doesn’t feel great.”

“You never called me either,” Mike says, softly, as if to fact check this. 

Jay shakes his head and drags his hand over his face. 

“I know that,” he says. “You think I forgot that part?”

“What--”

“Look-- Whatever. I’m sorry. Is that what you want? What the fuck do you _want_ from me, Mike? This is how you always were, you just-- You could never have enough from me, every time you peeled away another layer you wanted to see what was underneath that.” 

“That’s not true,” Mike says, aware that he won’t be able to even think clearly about this conversation until he’s been out of Jay’s presence for hours. “I let you hide from me all the time.” 

“Well, you’d look at me like you hated it when I did, so. I’m not stupid. It felt like I was always letting you down.”

Jay is mumbling under his breath by the time he comes to the end of this confession. He turns away from Mike and sits down on the kitchen floor, his back to the island, as if he wants to hide now, only his left leg visible from where Mike is standing.

“Is that wine for me?” Mike asks. 

Jay doesn’t respond, and Mike can’t really blame him. He can feel himself being an asshole, like he’s watching this play out on video and it’s too late to change anything, but that’s not real.

He takes the wine and goes to sit with his back to the kitchen cabinets, opposite Jay. They’re both silent for a while, sipping wine and not looking at each other. At one point Jay stands and gets the wine bottle from the island. He pours more for himself, then leans over on his knees and tilts the bottle in offering, pouring more for Mike when he holds out his glass. 

Mike takes two more gulps and tries to come up with anything to say other than the one throbbing thing that will not leave his mind and is perched on the tip of his tongue, but he can’t think of anything else. There’s only this one question he wants to ask, one thing he needs to say. He may never speak again if he can’t get this out first. 

“What would you do if I crawled over there and kissed you right now?” he asks when Jay finally meets his eyes. 

“I’d crack this over your head,” Jay says, lifting the wine bottle again.

Then he grins, and it’s like a kiss and a wine bottle over the head at the same time. 

Mike guffaws, and tries to contain it, but it’s no use. Jay is laughing, too, his eyes pinching up and his shoulders shaking, face all red again. Mike tips over onto the floor, onto his side, still laughing hard, feeling insane and relieved and hopeful in a way that he’d forgotten he was capable of. Jay snickers and stretches one leg out in Mike’s direction. Mike reaches out, tentative, and takes hold of Jay’s ankle, also holding his gaze. Jay’s eyes are wet, maybe from laughing.

“We have to do this movie first,” Jay says, flinching when Mike tightens his grip and tugs on his ankle a little. “And the remasters. And then. I don’t know. But don’t you dare fucking kiss me.” 

“I’m gonna fuck you, though,” Mike reminds him. He sneaks his fingertips up under the cuff of Jay’s jeans and rubs over the bump of his ankle bone. Jay swallows audibly, staring at Mike’s hand. “So, there’s that.”

“Yeah.” Jay takes a deep breath, lets it out, and pulls his leg back up against his chest, out of Mike’s grip. “But not tonight.”

“Of course not tonight--”

“I need to do this a certain way. I need to do the work first, and just get the fuck through it without this craziness, Mike, please. And if we survive that-- Maybe, uh. It’s funny, you know. I didn’t think you were as lonely as I am.” 

Mike rolls onto his back with a huff, still holding Jay’s gaze. He could deny it, but why would he? Jay has seen his life, his apartment, his eyes. 

“If you didn’t think I’d be lonely without you,” Mike says, “Then you didn’t know me at all.”

Jay says nothing for a moment, looking so sad that Mike wants to take it back.

“That’s what I worry about,” Jay says. “What if we were always making these-- Wrong assumptions about each other? And obviously we’ve both changed. Just let me be your co-star first, okay? Please?”

“I’ll do anything you want, Jay--”

“Oh, don’t start with that shit.”

“What! It’s true! Fucker, you think you couldn’t have called me up anytime and said, come back to me now, and that I wouldn’t have come running? Even when I was married to her?”

Jay’s eyes flash, and Mike knows that was the wrong thing to say, feels it in his bones. 

“No,” Jay says. “I thought you were better than that.”

“Well, maybe your overestimation of me was the problem.” 

Jay rolls his eyes. When he meets Mike’s again he looks less devastated, at least. 

“Please agree to do as I say,” Jay says, pressing his shoulders back against the island. His eyes have hardened, but he still looks sweet, blushy. “If we can make it through this without killing each other, we could-- I’m gonna be forty, Mike.”

“Yes,” Mike says, to all of that. 

“And, um. Yeah.”

Jay drinks from his wine and breaks eye contact. Mike hoists himself back up into a sitting position with a grunt. 

“Rich wants me to bring you to a party on Saturday,” Mike says, and it feels so good when Jay meets his eyes again: cautiously, because there’s want and honesty in them and he’s finally letting Mike see it. “As my date.” Mike waggles his eyebrows and sips from his wine after saying so. “Would that conform to your rules of engagement?” 

“Sure,” Jay says, frowning. “What kind of party?”

“A barbecue. He wants me, and everyone, I guess, to meet this woman he’s been seeing. Marianne. I think he wants to marry her or something, the asshole. And, uh. Some of the other people from our studio will be there-- They’re the actors who are gonna do the movie with us. So you could meet them. If you want.”

Jay nods to himself and looks away again. They both drink from their wine glasses, the fizzy, barely solidified suggestion that they could maybe be something to each other again flagging against the reminder that Mike is going to have to survive directing Jay with other men first, Simon included. 

“This was cruel,” Mike says, without thinking. “Candy was right.” 

“Huh?” Jay says, frowning at the sound of her name. 

“They set us up for this, Gil and them. They want us to implode for their entertainment. So. We can’t give them the satisfaction.” 

“I’m not the one who’s gonna have trouble being professional,” Jay says, muttering this half into his wine glass before he drinks from it, his eyes ducked away. 

“Yeah, we’ll see.” Mike is annoyed enough that he stands and thunks his empty wine glass on the counter. “I’d better get out of here before I get too drunk to drive. Or to remember I can’t kiss you.” 

“Mhmm.” Jay stands, too, and slumps back against the counter once he has, worrying his wine glass between his hands and studying Mike’s face. “Just don’t be mean to me,” he says. “Please?”

“I won’t. Can I hug you?”

“You’d better not.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m alone here and we’re drinking and it’s-- ah! I just told you shit I swore I’d never say.” 

Mike could mock Jay for basically confessing that even a hug would put him over the edge and end up with him dragging Mike to bed for kissing and more, but Jay asked him not to be mean, and Mike just wants to do whatever Jay tells him to for the rest of his life. 

“I’ll pick you up tomorrow at the usual time,” Mike says, backing toward the foyer, unwilling to take his eyes off Jay as he stands there showing Mike more of himself than maybe he’s ever seen, certainly the most he’s seen in years. 

“Kay,” Jay says. He’s gripping the marble countertop like doing so is all that’s keeping him in place. “Mike?”

“Yeah?” 

“Do you, uh. Regret it?”

“You know I don’t.”

Jay sniffs and nods, staring down at his wine glass.

“Sometimes I like to hear you say the things that you assume I already know,” he says.

“Okay.” Mike considers his options and then thinks: fuck considerations. “In that case, I miss the fuck out of you. Every day. Even when I drop you off here and I know I’ll see you again the next day and that we’ll text each other at three in the morning when we both can’t sleep. And it almost killed me to stay away from you, especially at the start. I’m not exaggerating, I nearly died of it. Do you still want me to leave?”

Jay stares at him, lips parted. Mike isn’t even sure which response he wants from Jay. He needs to go scream into a pillow for an hour. His legs are shaking. 

“Yes,” Jay says, and then he looks like he’s not sure what that word means, entirely, like he’s lost track of what Mike was asking. He turns away and groans. “We’ll-- Tomorrow. I miss you, too, but. We have to be smart or we will implode the way they want us to, once we’re on set.”

“All right, then.” Mike feels physically unable to leave Jay’s sight, though he really does need to go somewhere to hyperventilate and try to start to understand what is happening, and it’s not going to work if Jay is still standing there looking like he needs to be rescued from not having Mike’s arms around him. “If you’re sure.”

“I’m sure, Mike. I need to-- Fuck, I need to think.”

“Okay. Me too. Don’t think too much, though. Your, uh. Brain might fall out.”

Jay snorts and gives him a look for the bad joke. He waves. Mike waves back, turns and somehow makes it to the elevator. Jay doesn’t follow him.

Mike isn’t sure how many floors the elevator has descended before it really hits him that Jay was just offering a chance to be with him again, maybe, at some point in the future, if they can get past the unforgiving fire swamp of potential pitfalls they’re about to venture into. A cold sweat rises across the back of Mike’s neck, and his legs are barely working on the way to his car. He wants to run back into that elevator, but running away also feels good, because oh god he can’t handle this yet. He needs a real drink, and needs to talk to someone, to tell them what just happened, but there’s nobody. Rich would sigh skeptically and spoil it, and Candy would tell him he’s lost his mind. 

Mike sits in his car for a while, then feels paranoid, like Jay will somehow know, maybe having been informed by the doorman, that Mike is still in the building’s parking lot and is freaking out about what just transpired upstairs. 

The sun has just started going down as he drives home. Again, he eyes Lance’s boat dealership on his way. There’s so much lurking in the distance that soon will be much closer, but Mike isn’t going to spoil this miracle by thinking about all that yet. His phone buzzes in his pocket as he pulls up to his apartment, and he grins when he pulls it out and sees it’s from Jay.

_Have you read Gil’s email yet, with the script notes?_

Mike considers responding that of course he hasn’t, he just got home, then wonders how long exactly he sat in a daze in the parking deck and decides not to specify. 

_Not yet_ , he sends. _Anything awful?_

_You’re not gonna like it, but awful? I dunno. I can work with it._

Already, this is like a brick through Mike’s fragile hope that they could move forward and not let all the issues of the past cloud the potential of the future. He snarls at the phone and waits to read the script notes until he’s up in his living room with a glass of scotch. 

The notes are as he expected: needs more sex, more come shots, less arty filler, ending doesn’t work. There’s a suggestion that a gangbang scene on the construction site set would ‘fit in well as the climax, if the talent is amenable.’ 

Mike shouldn’t text Jay back, considering he’s finished two glasses of scotch without eating anything and his hands are shaking. They should wait to discuss it in the morning. Mike orders food and makes himself put his phone down, paces around for a while and opens a beer. Halfway through it, waiting for his food to arrive, he sends a single text. He won’t be able to sleep without making this one thing known.

_I said no to gb scenes in 2011 and I am sure as shit not directing one for you now_

He waits, staring down at the phone, remembering all their fights over the Amish kid and biker guy shorts and how that ended. 

_I was going to say no to that, too_ , is all Jay sends back.

No angry words, no snide remarks about how sensitive and not cut out for porn Mike is. Mike stares, his heart hammering, and waits to get a mean addition to this, but nothing comes. 

_I say we ignore all their notes_ , Mike sends. _Of course they don’t get it, but they don’t need to, like you said. The current script fits the parameters in the contract_

_Yeah, but if we piss them off too much they’ll sit on it instead of releasing it_

_so what?_

_So I actually wanted to make a good movie with you and not see it get shelved?_

Mike is touched, though still wary. Everything feels like a potential landmine, and they’re not even on set yet. 

_We’ll talk tomorrow_ , Mike sends, and he almost wants to add, love you, as if they went so far as to admit that part over wine on Simon’s kitchen floor. 

_Yeah_ , Jay replies, and then: _Thanks for doing the q &a today. The comments about it on the site are good. They liked the regret question best. Of course_

Mike chews his lip, debating how to respond. People liked that question because it brought out something real. If only they knew how real it got after the broadcast ended. 

_Anything for you Jay_ , Mike sends, which sounds just jokey enough. If Jay knows it’s true, that’s okay, too. Mike told him, outright. Whether he believes it or not remains to be seen.

Mike actually sleeps through most of the night, not startling awake until almost five in the morning. He checks his phone for messages from Jay and isn’t surprised to see none. Maybe he slept well, too, after getting all that off of his chest. Or maybe he’s hanging back because he’s nervous about what happens now that certain things have been confessed. 

Trying to sleep again is pointless, but Mike stays in bed, thinking. Jay claims he would have taken Mike back as soon as Mike lowered himself to asking, at least during those first two years, before he found out about Candy. Mike isn’t sure that’s true, but Jay at least seems to believe it now. There’s no reason for him to lie about such a thing.

Right? Mike thinks, sweating under his bedsheets. 

He makes himself think about lighter things, since he’ll be driving over to pick Jay up for their work day soon. Imagining what kissing Jay would be like now probably isn’t the smartest distraction from his worries about what could go wrong, but it melts away at least some of his fear and feels good enough in his imagination that his hand sneaks down under the blankets. He reaches in past the waistband of his boxers as his dick starts to get hard for the thought of pinning Jay underneath him and smothering him with his kisses while they grind together helplessly, giving up on waiting because it feels too good to give in. 

The fantasy devolves mostly into thoughts of Jay’s face when his head is thrown back and his cheeks are all red, eyes getting wet at the corners as he moans for the feeling of Mike’s cock inside him, telling him he needed this, so bad, that he was dying without it.

Mike puts himself over the edge with the thought of Jay’s teeth closing into the meat of his shoulder while he comes on Mike’s cock, and how they’d feel different now, or wouldn’t. 

He cleans himself up as the low level shame washes the last blush of his orgasm away, and thinks about the likelihood of Jay actually breaking his vow to wait to try anything romantic until after the movie’s wrap party or whenever he’ll deem it ‘safe’ to kiss Mike without ruining their product or his image or whatever he’s worried about. The odds of Jay’s resolve slipping are slim to none. He’s the stubbornest bastard Mike has ever known. He waited Mike out for two years and still expected a miraculous reunion when Mike came home, apparently, after never even calling him up to apologize for making Mike feel like Jay regretted ever knowing him and just wanted him gone.

Things between them are okay in the morning, and they don’t talk about what was said the night before. Jay is attentive and agreeable when they’re editing, and they blast through the work faster than they have been in previous weeks, sniping at each other less about creative decisions and not at all about anything personal. Jay is on his best behavior, and Mike wonders if it’s because he doesn’t want to get into that emotional shit again anytime soon or if he’s just placated by knowing Mike misses him, too, when they part for the day. 

He doesn’t invite Mike over for dinner again that week, which isn’t surprising. They have to be careful about how they proceed from here, can’t get sloppy and balls-out right away in their usual fashion. On Friday night they part as usual, after making plans for Mike to pick Jay up for Rich’s barbecue the following afternoon. 

“Can I bring anything?” Jay asks, leaning in the passenger side door of Mike’s car after he’s climbed out. 

“If Simon has any really special, fancy beers-- Bring those.”

Jay snorts. “He’s coming back to town next month,” he says. “He wants to meet with us about his part.”

“I’ll bet he does,” Mike says, his mood sinking. “Maybe after you meet the guys at this thing tomorrow you’ll realize you don’t need Simon’s cock on set to watch your back.” 

Jay’s face falls, and Mike remembers what he said: please don’t be mean. 

“Just kidding,” Mike says, hurriedly. “Uh. Tell him that’s fine.”

Jay nods and shuts the passenger side door without saying anything else. When his back is turned, Mike bangs his head against the steering wheel a few times, then drives away.

Mike’s sleep is restless, and he ends up on the computer at four in the morning, looking at old pictures. He can’t stop thinking about what Jay said, and if he should address it or just leave it alone. _I thought I was too ugly for porn._ Jay had all kinds of hang-ups about his looks that Mike could never understand, even if he could objectively see the crooked teeth and short stature and whatever else Jay had problems with. For Mike it was all part of what was perfect about him, but it’s true that he didn’t see it this way when they first met, the day Jay followed him into the cafeteria after class. Mike had liked him right away, but his heart hadn’t been all aflutter for the little dweeb at first sight. It happened gradually over that first semester when they were hanging out, and took Mike off guard in a way that made him slow to notice it. Only when they parted for the summer so Jay could go home and work in Milwaukee did Mike realize why it felt so fucking bad and lame to be away from Jay, who didn’t look like the guys Mike usually dated but who had taken on a kind of glowy importance in Mike’s life that he only wanted to chase down further, wherever it lead. Mike spent a lot of time in Milwaukee that summer, making movie-related excuses to drive there and see Jay almost every week. 

The thing they were working on at the time was a short horror film about a closeted guy who was being cyber-stalked with threats of blackmail that increasingly seem demonic, bleeding from the computer and out into his real life. Mike plays the closeted guy, Jay plays the demon, and the resolution of the film is a horrifically awkward scene where it’s implied that allowing the demon to fuck him cures Mike’s character of the curse that’s haunting him, and that his ensuing orgasm kills the demon, which is also implied awkwardly in a scene that inspired riotous laughter the one time they screened this. It has too much heavy-handed imagery and is badly acted by the two of them, but Mike feels a kind of warmth blooming in his chest when he pulls up the old file and watches it, his eyes beginning to burn as dawn approaches. In a way it was like their first porn film, though the sex scenes are very gauzy and more like horror than eroticism. Some of the thrill of taking on this ‘daring’ project had involved the weird sexual climax, and the implication that their characters fucked. They joked around about it a lot that summer, in a way that Mike had desperately wanted to believe was flirtatious.

Mike sleeps again around six in the morning, and by the time he’s picking up Jay for the barbecue he feels suspiciously well-rested, or just dangerously optimistic about how this day and the summer ahead will go. 

“Remember our old _Insight_ movie?” Mike asks when they’re driving to the party, the six pack of good beer that Mike purchased for it resting in Jay’s lap. “About the gay guy who kills his personal demon by letting it fuck him?”

“Ugh,” Jay says, shuddering. He grins and looks over at Mike, nose wrinkled. “Yes, god. That script. Everything about that movie, actually. So awful.” 

“Yeah, but it was our first real project together!” Mike debates whether or not to mention that he watched it last night. “And mostly I was hoping your interest in that script meant you were gay.” 

“You fucking knew I was,” Jay says, with a little laugh that might be partially angry.

“Uhh, not really. You laid claim to like fifteen different sexualities those first two years we knew each other. And none of them was ‘gay.’”

“Gee, I wonder why.” 

“Me too, actually. You knew I liked guys, uh. I had boyfriends in college.”

“Those weren’t _boyfriends_ , jesus-- Were they? Like-- Mark Mucus, or whatever his name was?”

Mike laughs hard, tipping forward onto the steering wheel as he comes to a stop at a red light. Jay is snickering under his breath, wrinkling his nose at Mike again.

“Mark Muchnik,” Mike says. “Was his name, actually.”

“That’s the dumbest name ever and he wasn’t even cute.” 

“What are we even arguing about anymore?”

“I don’t know, Mike, you tell me.” 

They’re actually not arguing at all, just smiling at each other. Mike can see it in Jay’s eyes: he’s nervously hopeful that things have taken a turn for the better, too.

“I didn’t want you to think I had a crush on you,” Jay says when the car is moving again. “That’s why, uh. I dunno. It felt like if I told you, yeah, of course I’m fucking gay, that would be the same as confessing the other thing, too. ‘Cause who else was I going to be in love with, if I liked guys at all?”

“Aww,” Mike says, and he wonders if reaching over to grab Jay’s leg would be a violation of their new and evolving terms of engagement. “Well. At least we only wasted four years just being friends.” 

Bringing up wasted years probably wasn’t the best move, but Jay just nods, shifting his grip on the six pack and keeping his gaze pointed ahead at the windshield.

“Are you nervous about meeting Rich’s girlfriend?” Jay asks when they’re parked outside her modest, well-kept ranch style house outside the city. 

“No,” Mike says, craning his neck to scope the place out. “Why would I be?”

“Because you’re always nervous about meeting new people and Rich means a lot to you?”

Mike glances over at Jay and shrugs one shoulder slowly, half admitting that of course Jay is right. Normally Mike would be annoyed to be called out like this, but in the moment it just feels good to have more confirmation that they know each other in a way that can’t be undone or made untranslatable just because things have changed.

Jack and his wife are there in the backyard when Mike and Jay walk up with their offering of beers, but none of the folks from the studio have arrived yet. Mike assumes this is intentional and appreciates the staggered approach. He goes to shake Marianne’s hand and doesn’t protest when she pulls him into a hug instead. All he knows about her is she’s a paralegal who met Rich through a poker club that has something to do with his minor league baseball buddies. She’s Rich’s age, chubby with a dark blond ponytail and big hazel eyes, and she’s louder than Mike had anticipated, though he isn’t sure why this surprises him. Rich is loud in the same unnoticing, unapologetic way. 

“The famous Jay!” Marianne says when she hugs him as well. Mike laughs under his breath, because Jay hates being hugged by anyone who isn’t his mother or sisters. He once accepted Mike’s hugs only if they were alone together, and even then a little stiffly, unless they were in bed, when Jay would curl as much of himself around as much of Mike as he could. 

“More like infamous,” Jay says, smiling awkwardly when she pulls back. “Nice to meet you. Thanks for inviting me.” 

“Here’s to having the old gang back together!” Jack says, lifting his beer, possibly already a little drunk. In the old days he was always dieting or abstaining for financial reasons and would only drink around Mike and Jay, often getting inadvertently hammered when he tried to keep with them. “So good to be here with all you guys,” Jack adds as Mike and Jay crack open two of the beers they brought. “And, if I may say so, to not have Gil among us.”

“Here’s to that,” Rich says, lifting his can of Diet Coke. “You guys hear from him lately?”

“He called the other night,” Mike says. “Right before we did the livestream. It was kind of weird, actually,” he says, remembering now that he’s wanted to discuss this with Jay, beyond the script notes. “He seemed-- Jittery, or something? Like he was worried his bosses were going to accuse him of not managing us properly?” 

Mike is looking at Jay, waiting for him to either concur or tell him he’s imagining things. Jay just stares back like this appeal to his opinion is too boyfriend-like, crossing the imaginary line Jay has placed between them. 

“I don’t know,” Jay says. “He just seemed disorganized, like always. Gil doesn’t know if he’s coming or going. His father got him that internship that got him started in the business, you know.”

Jay drinks from his beer and Mike watches him, uncomfortable with how they both seem to be the center of attention so far but unable to stop over-focusing on Jay himself. Jay has a huge chip on his shoulder about anybody whose father gave them anything. Loudness aside, Marianne seems to share Rich’s complete comfort with silence in a group setting, and Jack’s wife Kate isn’t going to make an effort with any of them. Mike is surprised she came at all. She’s a middle school math teacher, and Mike assumes she doesn’t like that Jack was ever involved with their ‘world.’ 

“Have they given you script notes?” Jack asks. 

“The usual shit,” Jay says, nodding. “But none of it is contractually binding. I even had Josh look them over, to make sure.”

“You did?” Mike says, alarmed. 

“Yeah, I just--” Jay flushes and shrugs. “Can we not talk about work? What are you guys, um-- Doing, this summer? Anything fun?”

Marianne launches into a detailed description of the road trip that she and Rich are apparently going to take to Colorado and back, to see the White Sox play the Rockies there. This is the first Mike is hearing of it, and he’s a little bit rankled by what he has to assume is the news that Rich won’t be doing much shooting for the Under the Lake feature, if any. Mike had assumed he probably wouldn’t be comfortable with it, though Rich normally just yawns at whatever lewd acts he’s shooting. Of course it would be different, weird, with Mike involved, and even with Jay. Mike follows Rich over to the grill while the others discuss Jack and Kate’s plans to take their kids to Disney World. 

“I guess this means you won’t be doing the shoot with us?” Mike says, watching Rich flip burger patties and hot dogs. 

“Yeah,” Rich says, sighing. “Sorry. I thought about it, and it’d just be too weird for me. You’re like my brother!”

“I know. Fuck.” Mike groans and turns to check on Jay. He grins when he finds Jay peeking at him, and Jay turns back to the others after their eyes meet. “But, actually-- There’s no reason for you to feel bad. I get it, and I think it’s going to be okay, anyway, Rich. I really do.”

“Oh god,” Rich says, mumbling this under his breath. “What?” he says when he looks up, wincing, and sees the look Mike is giving him. “Maybe you’re right! I don’t fuckin’ know. But, uhh. Guard your expectations.”

“Why should I do that.”

“Because you haven’t even started shooting yet? Forget it, don’t listen to my pessimistic ass. You and Jay have been okay so far, uh. So, yeah. Everything will be fine.”

Mike grunts and drinks from his beer, trying to deny that Rich’s skepticism is getting to him. 

“We talked, okay?” Mike says, near whispering this to Rich while the rest of the group laughs together on the other side of the yard. “For real, like. He said he missed me and wanted me back.”

“Whoa, what?”

“Yeah. I was fucking shocked, too. And he said that if we can get through this shoot, maybe there’s a chance we could-- Be something, together, after.”

“Jay said this?”

“Shhh! Goddammit, Rich-- Yes!”

“Huh.” Rich studies Mike’s face for a moment as if checking for signs of madness. “Okay!” he says with a shrug, turning back to the grill. “Just sucks that you have to go through the obstacle course of this feature first.”

“Does it suck, though?” Mike knows it does. He just refuses to preemptively give up. “I mean, we like making movies together. And if you’re saying I’m going to get jealous about the Simon stuff and fuck things up, that won't happen. He basically makes fun of Simon to me.”

“Oh? Okay.”

“Stop saying okay!”

“What do you want me to say? I hope you’re right! Jay seems--”

Rich stops talking when he peeks back over his shoulder and sees Jay walking toward them with his beer. 

“Marianne wants you,” Jay says to Rich. “She needs you to taste the potato salad.” 

“Ah, yes, very important. You guys watch these, okay?”

Rich trots across the yard, pulling his pants up as he goes. He’s losing a little weight, maybe because of this lady’s influence. Mike glances at Jay before manning the spatula and pushing at the burgers. 

“So you guys were talking about me,” Jay says, and he smirks at the distress on Mike’s face when he looks up. 

“Nothing bad,” Mike says. 

“His girlfriend seems nice.” 

“Yeah, she’s fine. She’s taking him away on this road trip adventure so he doesn’t have to work on my shoot, apparently.”

“Mike, did you really want to fuck me in front of him?”

“Jesus, no, but now I’ve got no emotional support on set! And you do.” 

“What, Simon?” Jay shrugs when Mike glances at him. “I guess. Don’t laugh, but I was kind of hoping the director might be my emotional support, like the old days.”

“Me?”

“Last time I checked you’re directing this, yeah.”

Mike is going to promise that of course he’ll be Jay’s emotional support, but before he can even get his thoughts together a group of studio guys shouts out a greeting as they walk across the yard, holding multiple cases of beer and waving. 

“Oh god,” Mike says. “These are my Manhole guys.”

“Hmm,” Jay says, studying them. “So hard to guess which ones are talent and which ones are crew.”

It’s actually not, which is the joke: the crew are all schlubby and balding, while Dima and Rocky are built and classically handsome, both on the stocky side, mid-thirties with not a hint of a receding hairline. Dima is only a few inches taller than Jay and has more of a pretty-face thing going on. He’s Manhole Entertainment’s go-to bottom, though in many ways he’s actually the butchest guy Mike knows. He’s brought his tiny blond wife, who is also Russian and doesn’t speak much English, unlike him. Rocky is more of a big dumb jock who can’t do much in the way of acting but is also sweeter and easier to direct. He’s bisexual and currently unattached, and Mike is a little worried he might fall in love with Jay during this shoot, but only on poor Rocky’s behalf, as he is not at all Jay’s type.

Mike introduces everybody, surprised by how good it feels to be at Jay’s side during this process. They’re all chattering at Jay like he’s the guest of honor, and as Mike watches Jay handle it with his usual social ease and ability to smile brightly even at the biggest weirdos or lamest normies, Mike realizes this happy feeling is pride. He’s proud of Jay: proud to be the one who brought him here, the one who had him once, and the one who might have him again. 

“I can’t believe we’re going to see you act,” Dima says to Mike after everybody’s had a couple of beers and at least one hamburger or hotdog. Mike gives him a look, because of course he really means ‘fuck.’ 

“Stranger things have happened,” Mike says. “I know Rocky’s watched the old movies. What’d you think of my acting?”

“Uhh,” Rocky says, looking so startled that Mike is sorry to have put him on the spot. “Well. It wasn’t acting, entirely, right? ‘Cause you guys were together.”

He looks like he feels badly for pointing this out, shoulders rounding forward. He’s something of a MikeNJay fanboy, Mike has gathered, though he’s smart enough to try to be cool about it. 

“Relax, boss,” Dima says. “We have Viagra in our budget.” 

“Won’t be necessary,” Mike says, sneering at Dima while he laughs at his own joke. 

“It might be,” Jay says, a little drunk and leaning at Mike’s side on the wooden bench they’re both seated on. Marianne and Kate are across the yard, admiring the blueberry bushes that line the property and skipping out on the shop talk, intentionally or not. “What?” Jay says when Mike gives him a look for that remark. “Stage fright is a real thing, Mike.”

“Nothing wrong with needing a little pick me up,” Rocky says, nodding. “I need it when I do scenes with women. I dunno why. They’re usually better looking than the guys I fuck on camera. Maybe that’s why. I feel like they must think I’m gross.”

“Girls in porn think they’re hot shit,” Dima says, and then he says something in Russian to his wife, who is mostly ignoring them and playing with her phone. She mumbles a reply without looking up. 

“Some guys do, too,” Mike says, obviously meaning him. Dima just laughs. 

They discuss the time frame for the shoot until Marianne and Kate wander over and Jack helpfully changes the subject to their college years and some of the old movies they worked on together, before Mike and Jay ventured off into their own thing. 

“The best one was the one where Jay played the psycho stepson,” Jack says. 

“That could have actually been good,” Mike says, pointing at Jack in acknowledgement. “If we’d had a budget.”

“And real actors,” Jay says. “Jocelyn aside. She was great as my mom.”

“You were great, too!” Jack says, before Mike can. “And so was Mike, as the guy who thinks his new stepson is going to kill him. Mike, you were very convincingly afraid of Jay.”

“Ha,” Mike says. They’d shot this with Jack’s help not long after Mike’s graduation, after Jay had dropped out of college. Jay had been depressed but unwilling to admit it. He did scare Mike, back then, in multiple ways. 

“If we’d come up with a real ending it might have been okay,” Jay says. “But my guy just digging a hole in the backyard, and you don’t know if Mike’s guy is dead or not-- It’s such a gunshot and fade to black style cop out.”

“It is not!” Mike says. “I mean it’s not _that_ bad-- And you wrote it!”

“Wrote is one word for desperately settled because I just wanted to move onto something else, yeah.” 

“You guys fight like you’re married,” Dima says, squinting at them and lifting his beer to gesture at Mike, then Jay, as if it isn’t clear to everyone here who he’s talking about. Mike needs to speak to him about not being a jackass, clearly. 

“We practically were, a long time ago,” Jay says. He laughs when he sees Mike boggling at him. “What? We lived together for like eight years.” 

“Who wants some dessert?” Marianne asks, mercifully. 

The rest of the party is uneventful, and Mike feels satisfyingly stuffed as they’re leaving, and also satisfied that Jay will be able to work with his actors without freaking out. Mike isn’t sure what he was ever worried about, on that front. Jay is so unflappable, and he seems fine in the passenger seat as they drive away from the party, if a little tipsy, laughing at Mike’s post-party rundown of everyone’s interactions. 

“What’d you think of my guys?” he asks. 

“Crew guys were pretty quiet,” Jay says. 

“They came for the free beer, but they’re good dudes. I met them through Len. Sort of stole them from him, actually.” 

“Your actors are, like, meatheads,” Jay says, still smiling but also giving Mike a judgmental look. 

“I guess you’re not familiar with gay porn. Meatheads are heavily involved. And Dima’s practically a twink.”

“He has, like, bulging arm muscles, he’s not a twink!”

“His face is twinky! Boyish? I don’t know, just-- Are you okay with them? Because we can find some other guys, if--”

“They’re fine,” Jay says, waving his hand through the air. “I’ll barely have to do anything with them, anyway, if we don’t change the script.”

“Mhmm.” Mike doesn’t want to change the script. He doesn’t plan to, and also doesn’t want to talk about it right now. “Hey, how about I take you by the studio? Show you around a little while no one’s there?”

“I’ve been there, Mike,” Jay says, because it’s the same one they rented out when they were first making real money. 

“I know, but, not since--”

“Yeah, let’s go. It’ll be funny to see it again, uh. After all this time.” 

It’s nearing sundown but still pretty light out when they park in the fenced little warehouse lot. Mike’s studio is nondescript and nothing fancy, inside or out, just a two story street-facing shop with a warehouse in back where they do their set construction and most of their shoots. He’s annoyed to find that the crew didn’t turn the alarm system on before leaving for the party. They’re always forgetting this kind of basic housekeeping shit, but he decides not to say so in front of Jay, not wanting him to think this is some kind of slapdash operation. Mike usually trails after the crew and takes care of the finer details, anyway. 

“So this is the locker room set,” Mike says, after he’s put only half the lights in the warehouse area, not wanting to illuminate all the clutter on the storage shelves that line the room. “We’ll do your scene with Rocky here,” he says, standing back while Jay examines the banks of freestanding lockers. 

“Does this shower work?” Jay asks, moving over to the plastic tile-lined portion of the set, made to look like a communal gym shower.

“Yep,” Mike says. “There’s a refillable tank behind that wall. We’ll throw in some corny solo showering stuff with you before you run into Rocky, I guess. I mean, if you’re okay with it.”

“Of course.” Jay has his back to Mike, and he’s touching the tiles as if to test their integrity. “This is a good build, actually.”

“You sound surprised.”

“No-- I’m not.” Jay turns to Mike and puts his hands in the pockets of his jeans. “Sorry. I’m a little drunk, I think.”

“That’s okay.” Mike walks over to him, a craving for closeness overtaking him. They’d been so proud of this place when they first rented it, and they’d had so many plans. “Need some water?” Mike asks. “We could go upstairs to the kitchen.”

“I’m okay.” Jay stares up into Mike’s face, his expression mild and sweet. “I really do want to make something good with you, Mike,” he says, softly, as if it’s a secret to be kept from these corny sets. 

“That means a lot,” Mike says, and then, “I’m serious!” when Jay laughs as if Mike is doing a bit, being deadpan to be funny. He was really just trying to communicate the gravity of this.

“I know,” Jay mumbles, and he’s blushing when he tilts his face up again. He bites his lip, and Mike shuffles closer, wondering if this is a test. Will Jay disqualify him from maybe trying to get back together after the shoot if he tries for a kiss? Would trying to kiss him between now and then break some kind of spell? Because Jay suddenly really looks like he wants to be kissed. 

“Did you have fun today?” Mike asks, pitching his voice low and soft. 

“I did,” Jay says. “It was like-- Normal life. First time I’ve felt normal in a long time. Ironic, I guess, since I was meeting the guys I’m gonna do sex scenes with for the first time in, uh. Nine years.” 

“Did you sleep with many people, after me?” Mike asks, not sure if he’s trying to wrench them out of this moment or lean into it. 

Jay looks slightly offended by the question, his nose wrinkling.

“Did you?” he asks.

“When I first got to Arizona? No. Then after like six months I came back to life as a grotesque, reanimated corpse that fucked around a lot, until I met Candy.”

“At a strip club?”

“No, she did a burlesque show thing. I mean, she was stripping, too, at the usual joints, to make money. But I saw her art show first. It was really neat, and-- What about you?” 

“Me?”

“Yeah, did you, uh. Get around, after you first got all buff?”

Jay snorts and looks down at Mike’s chest. It’s so quiet in the studio, which Mike has always liked when he’s here working alone, usually dealing with financial or legal chores up in his office. 

“It’s weird,” Jay says, mumbling. “But after I got my teeth fixed, and my hair-- I dunno. It made me even more reluctant to try to get picked up. Like what if I did all this and it still wasn’t enough, out in the real world?” 

“The real world?”

“As opposed to writhing around on the webcam, under good lighting.”

“Jay, you-- Do you still not know what you look like?”

“I’ve looked a lot of different ways, Mike. I know I look better than I did when I was in our videos, but. Never mind, I’m not fishing for compliments.” 

Mike touches Jay’s chin and tilts his head back again, so their eyes are locked. Jay is giving him a petulant look, brows pulled together as he breathes in little huffs through his nose. He’s so red across his cheeks. Mike can already feel the heat on his lips, leaning in. 

There’s a sound from upstairs in the office area, and Jay startles. Mike turns and frowns, really hoping that they don’t have mice again. 

“Someone here?” he shouts, though the heavy door between the warehouse and office areas is shut. “I should also mention, the studio is haunted,” he says, turning back to Jay with a grin.

The look of real terror on Jay’s face makes the amusement drop out of Mike in a blink. 

“Who’s up there?” Jay asks, whispering, wide-eyed. 

“Nobody, uh-- Seriously, I joke about this place being haunted because the air conditioning and the pipes make weird sounds sometimes. It’s okay-- Jay?”

Jay is backing away and breathing hard, his eyes locked on the door at the top of the stairs that leads to the offices. 

“I want to leave,” he says, and only then does Mike think of Jay’s stalker, and the alarm system being off when they got here. 

“Okay,” Mike says, keeping calm for Jay’s sake even as his heart starts to pound. He takes Jay’s hand without thinking, and Jay doesn’t protest, just threads his fingers through Mike’s as they hurry for the side door that leads out to the parking lot. 

Mike can hear Jay breathing when they’re in the car together. He didn’t pause to put the alarm system on as they left, which was maybe a mistake, but he has a plan for that. First he needs to get Jay away from here, because he’s scared, and it’s not out of the realm of possibility that he should be, considering the studio is probably easier to find than Jay’s apartment, address wise. 

“Sorry,” Jay says when they’re driving. He's staring out the passenger side window, hands gripped tight over his knees. “I’m sure it was nothing, just. Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry, jesus. I’m gonna-- Hang on, I’m gonna pull over and give Rich a call.” 

Mike parks in a Burger King lot and calls Rich up to ask him to bring Rocky over to the studio with him and check to make sure there’s no signs of a prowler there, and to turn the damn security system on when they leave, whatever they find. By the time they arrive at Simon’s building, Rich has called to leave a message saying they checked but didn’t find anything that indicated a break-in, and nothing was missing or out of place. 

“What the fuck, Mike?” Rich says, and that’s where the voicemail ends. Mike will explain later. Right now he’s walking Jay up to the penthouse, at the very least. He wants to ask to stay all night, but doesn't badger Jay by saying so on the elevator ride up, just keeps close to him as they make their way inside and accepts a glass of water from him when they’re in the kitchen.

“Sometimes I feel like nothing will ever be normal for me,” Jay says. 

Mike wants to stammer an apology, feeling sliced open by that. 

“I wish,” he starts to say, but something about the pleading look on Jay’s face shuts him up.

“The weird part is I only ever feel normal with you,” Jay says. “I thought all of this would be so hard, like. Agony. But it’s, just--” 

Jay turns away with a groan and shows Mike his back for a while. Mike wants to throw his arms around Jay, and isn’t sure if he should even take a step toward him. Jay is all unspooling tension and something else that Mike wants to interpret as need. It might just be the need for space. 

“I’m gonna stay here tonight,” Mike says. “In Simon’s bed, or wherever-- I don’t care. That was scary, once I thought about, uh. It shook me up, too. Even if it was nothing. And we don’t know that it wasn’t. I could call the cops--”

“Call them and tell them what? That we heard a noise?” Jay scoffs and shakes his head, turning back to Mike with a shrug. “Can we just watch a movie or something? I need to think about something else.”

Mike agrees, not missing that Jay didn’t tell him he doesn’t have to stay over. 

Jay puts _The Burbs_ on and seems cheered by it instantly, sitting close to Mike on Simon’s sofa. Mike still feels agitated and unsure about how to proceed, kind of wants another beer. He doesn’t get one, because he also feels like he needs to stay sharp. He digs through Simon’s freezer when the movie is halfway over and brings a carton of fancy green tea sorbet back to the sofa, with two spoons. Jay accepts one with a smile, and Mike is only a little embarrassed by how much it means to him to see Jay take what he’s offering. He tries not to stare too overtly as Jay slides spoonfuls of sorbet into his mouth, eyes on the screen. By the end of the movie, all Mike can think about is kissing him, and his heart is racing from the sugar and from Jay’s closeness. Jay must have been sweating a little at the party, because Mike can smell it now, and it’s the sweetest reminder of happy times. His mouth is watering. 

“Another movie?” Jay says, his voice cracking a little with the question after they’ve stared at each other for an uncomfortable amount of time while all this runs rampant through Mike’s mind and in the neighborhood of his dick, too.

“Yes,” Mike says. “I’m staying over tonight, did you hear that part?”

“I heard,” Jay says, and he stands with a grunt. “I guess I have no say in the matter?”

“You want to kick me out?”

“No,” Jay says, his back to Mike, voice small, while he heads into the kitchen with the empty sorbet container and dirty spoons.

Mike decides not to make him confront the subject again, to just let his continued presence here settle around them in the same way that everything else seems to be gradually, magically returning to what feels like the correct order of things: the two of them together, all day long, closer and closer, no reason to separate.

The next movie Jay picks is _Alien_. They put out the lights, and Mike admires the view of Milwaukee and the lake at night just as often as he turns his eyes to the screen. He’s seen this movie a million times, and he’s getting sleepy. He can see that Jay is, too, his posture slumped and yawns increasing in frequency. 

“You could put your head on my leg,” Mike says, keeping his eyes on the screen as he says so. He could play it off as a joke, maybe, if Jay laughs.

Jay does laugh, soft and low in his chest. He also tips over toward Mike and settles his head on Mike’s thigh. 

Mike is tense for a moment, and so is Jay, neither of them really sure what’s happening. Mike doesn’t know if touching Jay’s hair will make it better or worse, but he can’t resist, and when he glides his fingers down over the short bits in back Jay just sighs and shivers happily, his eyes sliding shut. So Mike does it again. After three or four passes of Mike’s fingertips, Jay is all liquefied and cozy, his breath warm against the leg of Mike’s jeans. 

Mike wants to push it and start gushing about how he’s never going to leave Jay’s side again, if that’s okay with Jay. The movie provides suitable noise and distraction to prevent this, and eventually he settles his hand around the back of Jay’s head, his thumb moving in occasional brushes against the back of Jay’s ear. Jay might be asleep, because he doesn’t try to conceal the pleased little noise he makes every time Mike touches him there. He’s always had sensitive ears. 

“Are you awake?” Mike asks, his voice a low, scratchy rumble, because he’s close to sleep, too. He’s going to do something awful like whisper _I love you_ if Jay doesn’t reply.

“Mmph,” Jay says, which is like saying yes and no at the same time. “What time is it.”

“I dunno, are you, uh-- You got plans?”

Jay snorts and sits up, rubbing at his eyes. The loss of the warmth and weight of him against Mike’s thigh is painful, but that he let Mike cuddle him at all still has Mike soaring so high that it might take him all the way to the end of this thing without any battle damage. 

“I’m gonna go to bed,” Jay says, reaching over to pat Mike’s thigh as if to thank it for its service. “You can sleep here on the sofa, or in Simon’s room.”

“You know what,” Mike says, standing with a groan and stretching his arms up over his head. “Yeah. I’ll take the king’s chambers for the night.”

“God,” Jay says, laughing. “Follow me, then.”

Simon’s bedroom is predictably luxe and sparse on furnishings, lined with windows that offer a sparkling view of the city and centered around an enormous bed that’s all clean white lines, low to the ground on a fancy wooden platform. Mike collapses onto it after kicking off his shoes, rolls onto his back and stares at Jay, who’s lingering in the doorway, silhouetted by the light at the end of the hallway and standing with his hands in the pockets of his jeans. 

“You okay?” Mike asks, hoping that Jay hears the invitation to come cuddle with him in this question. 

“Yeah,” Jay says. His voice is a little scratchy and small. Tired, maybe. “G’night.”

“Night. Thanks for, uh. Offering me the master’s bed. He’s not going to show up randomly in the night and like, karate kick me in the stomach or something, is he?”

“Nah. And if he does-- I think you could take him.”

“Jesus, Jay, I can only get so hard.”

“Oh my god.” Jay snickers and waves his hand in Mike’s direction. “I’m-- Goodnight!”

“Night.”

I love you, Mike thinks, folding his arms behind his head and staring at the ceiling after Jay has gone. He’s just delirious and perhaps delusional enough to believe this truth will follow Jay down the hallway to the guest bedroom and settle around him like armor, protecting him from bad dreams and anything else that might try to harm him while he sleeps. 

Mike has weird dreams all night, many of them involving Simon suddenly showing up and either fighting him or having him arrested, Jay nowhere to be found. The dreams feel so real that he wakes up startled, and at least once he wakes to the feeling of someone curled up around his back, warm and familiar like a ghost from his past. In the morning he’s alone in the bed and not sure if his memory of being held last night was real or just another dream. He buries his face in Simon’s bedsheets, trying to convince himself he can smell Jay on them, then not sure if that’s a good thing or not. 

Mike gets up and hears no sign of Jay being awake. He goes into the gym and sits naked in the hot tub for a while, thinking about what to do next, then returns to Simon’s bedroom in a towel and takes his time showering in the massive stone-lined en suite bathroom. By the time he’s done indulging himself and dressing, he can hear Jay moving about in the kitchen. 

“Hey,” Jay says when Mike walks in. Jay looks freshly showered, too, dressed for the day in his usual jeans and well-fitting t-shirt. His gaze bounces away from Mike’s quickly, and his cheeks are bright. “Want coffee?”

“Yeah.” Mike takes a seat at the kitchen island and decides not to ask about last night. Jay doesn’t like to be cornered with evidence that he made himself vulnerable, and it’s possible that even if he did come to Mike for a cuddle he was just sleepwalking, and mortified when he woke up there. “Sleep well?” is the only question Mike dares. 

“Mhmm.” Jay nods and sips from his own mug, though the coffee is steaming against his red cheeks and probably too hot. “You?”

“Not really. I had weird dreams. But that’s okay. It felt good, uh. To wake up here. Where you are.”

Jay makes a face like it’s too early in the day for that kind of talk and passes Mike a mug full of coffee. 

The rest of the day proceeds as normal: they go to Mike’s place to edit, making progress on one of their Sid and Dex shorts that needs the most work. Mike can feel the pressure of working on the Dude Bros and Amish runaway with Biker shorts creeping closer, and spends extra time on the video, being picky and even indecisive. Jay doesn’t object, just follows his lead. 

In the weeks that follow, things are fragile but sweet between them, like the coming summer that keeps getting pulled back by the usual cold snaps but pushes closer and closer regardless. Mike will dare small things throughout their day together: leaning over to bump his shoulder against Jay’s after telling some stupid joke that has Jay both laughing and wincing, touching the top of Jay’s head before sitting beside him in the editing suite, eating off his plate during their lunch break. Jay doesn’t invite him up to Simon’s place again at night, and Mike doesn’t even mind, because he knows what it means. Jay is close to giving in. The combination of little touches and long looks and Mike’s miraculous, corresponding restraint has Jay in a nervous swoon, and he’s not taking any chances after hours.

Mike isn’t adept at seducing people with this much careful calculation, least of all Jay. He’d given up on ever getting Jay in bed entirely by the time they had their moment with the camera rolling and Jay suddenly taking his dick out, throwing them both into the deep end all at once. Mike had climbed onto Jay without a second thought, and couldn’t even wait a full week of teasing him with ‘training’ him to take dick before reversing their positions and plowing him until his eyes crossed. They were on each other all the time after that, even when things were bad. It was a default source of comfort no matter what else was going on, and there was never any hesitation after that first plunge, least of all from Mike, who was okay with public displays of affection in a way that he never managed to bring Jay around to-- Ironically, Mike felt, considering what ended up being their chosen profession.

By the end of May they’ve got their shooting schedule set and haven’t heard more from Under the Lake on script feedback or studio notes. Mike decides to interpret the quiet as a good thing, at least until for now, and ignores Gil’s messages about getting together for dinner. They don’t owe Gil anything beyond the finder’s fee he’s already collected from their cut of studio money, and Mike doesn’t want that asshole throwing any weird wrenches into their current sense of calm just before they start shooting. Their start date is rapidly approaching in a way that keeps Mike up nights with a combination of excitement and terror that, above all else, makes him feel young again. He’s even lost ten pounds, maybe thanks to eating healthy lunches as dictated by Jay during their work days. 

“We should have a full day of just rehearsing stuff together and going over the script before we start shooting,” Jay says when it’s just a week out from their first planned day of shooting, which will involve Simon, because that’s when he’ll be in town. 

“Okay,” Mike says, not sure what this means. They’re in the car, Mike driving Jay home after their first day of remastering the Dude Bro stuff, which was less traumatic than Mike feared, at least on his end. Jay seems a little shaken up by it, maybe just because of his angst about how he looked back then. He’s fidgety in the passenger seat beside Mike, obviously debating whether or not to say something else. 

“Look, um,” Jay says, turning from his contemplative staring out the passenger side window to stare at Mike. “Simon will be back in town in two days.”

“I know that.” Mike has been thinking about this a lot, half dreading it and half ready to show that guy just how things have changed between him and Jay since he left town.

“So, I was thinking,” Jay says, “We should, uh. I want to-- We should get in one last round of practice, okay, rehearsing-- And I want to do it on my turf this time, since last time we were in yours, and I want to do it before gets back, so. Tomorrow.”

“Do what?” Mike asks, genuinely confused. 

“Blow jobs,” Jay says, so bluntly that Mike guffaws, assuming he’s joking. But Jay is staring at him with annoyance when he looks over again. “I’m serious,” he says. “This whole fucking movie is wall to wall me blowing you, yeah? We should-- Before-- I thought--”

“Okay,” Mike says, forcing himself to stop laughing even as he feels giddier than ever, because oh god what. He reaches over to pat Jay’s knee, hoping it will seem reassuring and not condescending. “We can do that. On your-- Turf. Which means, uh. Simon’s?”

“Yes.” Jay winces and sighs. “Sorry, I-- Wanted to make a whole schedule for this and build up to it gradually, but that’s not really a thing that can be done, I don’t think.”

“Yeah-- No. This works, um. If you’re okay with it, truly?”

“Mike,” Jay says, groaning this out like he can’t believe Mike is pretending to be so dense. He’s also staring out the window again. Mike’s hand is still closed around Jay’s knee. 

“I’m ready,” Mike says, with a gravity he hopes Jay will understand. 

Jay makes a soft noise of acknowledgement and doesn’t look at him. When they reach their usual drop off spot in the parking deck, Mike isn’t sure what will happen. He’s only mildly disappointed when Jay just climbs out of the car as usual.

“Tomorrow,” Jay says when he leans down to look at Mike, blushing. His eyes are hard, like he dares Mike to try fucking with him right now. “Come over at noon. We can do the--” Jay checks over his shoulder before turning back to Mike, redder. “Blow jobs,” he says, mumbling this out, “And then we can work.”

“Yes,” Mike says, his eyes burning into Jay’s, because he’s pretty sure it’s not actually going to happen that way. They might fuck tomorrow, Jay’s schedule be damned. They might even kiss. Mike can feel it in the air between them: this isn’t just a practical consideration to be gotten out of the way before Simon butts back into the picture. Jay can’t wait any longer. Mike’s been driving him crazy for weeks, touching him just enough to make him want more. He needs it.

Jay makes a face at Mike’s hungry, knowing stare, sighs and shuts the car door. 

Mike drives away, heart in his throat, dick half hard, and wonders if he should check his expectations. He’s getting a little full of himself and overconfident in his usual way, when he’s about to close the deal with someone he wants. It’s a sense of oncoming success that’s never failed him in the past, but he’s never wanted someone as much as he wants Jay now. He feels like getting absolutely hammered by the time he gets home, nerves building as he thinks about how long it’s been since he’s sucked some dick, but he limits himself to two beers. He can’t fuck this up. This is Jay giving him a shot for real, whatever he says about rehearsing. 

He barely sleeps, tossing and turning, and jerking off seems like his only hope for real rest. His first jerkoff is to thoughts of the first time he had his mouth on Jay’s cock, how Jay shouted and grabbed two handfuls of Mike’s hair, pulling heedlessly, and how shaky he was after, astonished, moaning when Mike kissed him to teach him the taste of his own come. When Mike wakes up and jerks off a second time he actually pulls up one of their old videos from the Amish runaway and nameless Biker series. Mike can’t deny he looked hot in these, at least more so than in any others, and that he’s still so fucking into how soft and scared and pitiful Jay’s look was, when he played this character and sort of otherwise, too, eventually. The one Mike jerks off to, guiltily, is of the Biker coming onto the Amish kid’s sweet, upturned face before taking big fingerfuls of his come from those blushing cheeks and pushing them into the kid’s mouth, telling him to lick them clean. 

Jay was thirty when he played this role but pulled off the bumpkin kid who just left home thing perfectly. He just had that innocent energy, could turn it on and off like a faucet. A porn star who could convincingly play innocent-- Mike sighs and pushes his laptop away, wishing he’d been able to make Jay believe how fucking special he was back then, how he made these things come to life in a way that should have been impossible and that it meant something more than Jay wanted to accept. It was a kind of soul-deep empathy for these characters that he would probably deny having to this day, but it’s right there on screen. Mike can see it, because he loved them, too.

Mike turns the video off before it can come to the end, which is a scene of the two characters sitting by a campfire, the Amish kid obviously cold, shivering with his shoulders pulled up to his ears while the Biker smokes and stares stoically at the flames. The Biker gets up and, mostly out of frame, puts his leather jacket around the Amish kid’s shoulders before walking off into the darkness, the Amish kid staring after him, bewildered. 

Mike knew it was a bad idea to watch anything from this series, but he did it anyway and now he’s got to stop thinking about Jay snapping at him about these videos, this storyline, everything.

_It’s all so predictable--_

_This is a fucking creative cul de sac, it’s a hack retread of everything we’ve done--_

_We can’t keep doing this--_

_You’re delusional._

Mike wakes up feeling profoundly disoriented, as if he’s stuck somewhere in space and time that isn’t part of the linear progression of his life but which represents some evil Rubik’s cube-like contraption where it’s all constantly shifting around him. 

He reminds himself that this is the day he’s going to exchange blow jobs with Jay, that everything has so far continued to go well between them, and that the swiftly approaching first day of shooting doesn’t have to feel like the inevitable nuclear detonation of all of it, because that’s just his terror talking.

He showers and jerks off once more under the warm water, making sure he’ll be able to last for a long time in Jay’s mouth. Jay will want the practice, anyway. He’s doing this for Jay, really, and he groans loud enough to wake the neighbors when as he unloads onto the wall of his shower at the thought of Jay on his knees for him again: soon, today, in a matter of hours. 

He considers consulting with Rich or Candy prior to this milestone, but then thinks: fuck it. Nobody but he and Jay will understand, anyway. This is the two of them back in the bubble they always pull each other into when things are good, and Mike isn’t going to complicate it with second guessing. 

Mike is in a state by the time he’s in the elevator on the way up to the penthouse, feeling positively adolescent. It’s a combination of fearless invincibility and suppressed panic that makes his legs feel weak. When the elevator doors open, seeing Jay waiting for him in saggy basketball shorts and a thin white t-shirt is almost enough to knock Mike onto his knees. It doesn’t help that Jay has some kind of dorky black slippers on, possibly stolen from Simon’s closet. Everything about him in this moment is perfect.

“Oh my god,” Jay says, backing up a little when Mike charges toward him. “Wait! What are you doing?”

“I don’t know. Blowing you? It’s five minutes till noon!”

“I’m not gonna turn into a pumpkin when the clock strikes-- Mike. Why do you look like you’re going to cry?”

“I don’t! I-- Do I?”

“We have to establish some rules,” Jay says, holding up both hands. “I mean-- I’m excited, too, okay? But. We can’t freak out if shit goes sideways, and there’s less of a chance that it will if we stay professional about this.”

Mike just grunts, not trusting himself to otherwise reply to that without rudeness at best.

“Follow me,” Jay says, looking comfortable with the fact that he’s in control. Mike understands now why Jay insisted on doing this here. He follows, walking down the penthouse’s main hallway and watching Jay’s ass in those basketball shorts, feeling increasingly feral for every appeal to his sense of professionalism. Which is maybe the point. Jay usually knows what he’s doing, and seems quite sure of himself as he leads Mike into the guest bedroom.

This is the first time Mike has been in Jay’s private space inside the penthouse, and already it feels like Jay was saving it for this moment, for maximum impact.

“No windows,” Mike says, because it’s the first thing he notices. 

“Yeah.” Jay sits on the bed, which Mike recognizes from his videos. “That’s a feature, not a bug. For me.”

“I get it. You want me to shut the door?”

“Please,” Jay says, so softly that Mike almost moans in response. 

Mike looks around the room when the door is shut. It’s small, maybe something designed for a housekeeper, all the better rooms pushed out against the windows. There’s a square lamp designed to look like a modern sort of lantern beside the bed, turned on and filling the room with a soft glow. The bed is made neatly in Jay’s old way, tugging at Mike’s heart as he stands in the middle of the room and waits for direction. 

“Do you want to go first?” Jay asks, sweet and quiet, like they’re kids getting away with something. He spreads his knees apart a little when Mike doesn’t instantly respond.

“Yes,” Mike says, ready to fling himself at Jay’s feet. “Jay,” he adds, heavy and half-broken, because he can’t help it.

“I know.” Jay closes his eyes and swallows heavily. “But. Mike--”

“I know, I know. Okay. Professional, um. You leaving those shorts on, or--?”

Jay shakes his head and kicks one of the slippers off, then the other. He sighs and pulls his t-shirt off next, disordering his perfect hair a little. Still seated on the bed, a blush flaming from his cheeks and down toward his throat, he lifts his hips just enough to wiggle out of the shorts, letting them pool around his ankles before kicking them away.

He’s not wearing underwear and he’s getting hard already, just sitting there looking at Mike, letting Mike see him. 

“What are you waiting for?” Jay asks, heels flexing against the floor. 

“Just looking at you,” Mike says. He’s getting hard, too, but he leaves his jeans and even his shoes on as he walks closer to Jay: slow, wanting to properly commit this to memory.

“Should we do one of the scenes?” Jay asks, breathing harder already. 

“My guy never sucks your guy’s dick in the movie.” 

They still haven’t gotten into the habit of using the character names. Mike fears, or hopes, that it’s because they’re thinking of these guys as themselves, a bit. 

“Yeah, but--” 

Jay loses his breath and his words when Mike sinks down onto his knees and shuffles forward, close enough to touch, settling between Jay’s spread apart legs. Mike can feel the heat of Jay’s body, so close. He licks his lips and stares up into Jay’s muggy eyes, wants to kiss him even more than he wants to suck his dick.

“But?” Mike says, prompting him to get back on track and settling his hands over Jay’s shaky knees, gentle. 

Jay flinches in Mike’s grip. His hands are pressed to the mattress. He smells like-- Fuck, Mike doesn’t even know. Something amazing, expensive, and clean with just the right amount of dirty, like a bead of sticky pre-come sliding over freshly scrubbed skin. 

“I don’t-- What?” Jay says, licking his lips. 

“You were saying something. You said, ‘yeah, but’ when I said we can’t really do a scene from the script. Because my guy never sucks your dick.” 

Mike drops his gaze to Jay’s erection after saying so and swallows back a moan. He’s missed that fat, perfect cock in his mouth so much that he doesn’t know how he hasn’t already dived down to swallow it to the root. Jay probably fits snugly in most people’s mouths, but Mike has always wanted to believe his proportions were designed to fill Mike’s just right, specifically. 

“Fine,” Jay says, breathing hard. “Just-- Please, Mike, I can’t--”

“Okay, shh.” Mike surges up to peck him on the lips without thinking about it. Jay boggles at Mike when he pulls back, looking stunned, then drops his gaze to indicate Mike should get to work, his legs spreading a little wider around Mike’s sides. Jay tilts his hips up slightly as his cock fattens up even more, in a way that would make Mike taunt him for being a needy brat if things were different between them. 

Mike pushes Jay’s thighs apart wider, digging his fingers into the soft flesh on the hairless upper insides. Jay makes a noise and scratches at the bedsheets with his dull fingernails like he can’t take it anymore. Mike can’t take it anymore either, wet-mouthed and throbbing against the zipper of his jeans. He takes Jay into his mouth in one long swallow, moaning around the salty heat of him, already blissed out for this.

“Oh god,” Jay says, his hands sliding into Mike’s hair. 

Mike takes him in so deep that he can feel the crazed panting Jay is doing on his forehead, Jay’s tight stomach moving against Mike’s skin as Jay tries to breathe through the first hot pulses of pure pleasure. Mike lets his mouth get wet and sloppy for it, shameless. He’s squeezing Jay’s thighs while he bobs his head, kneading into the soft skin there harder than he should, wanting to leave marks. Jay probably beat off three times, too, in anticipation of this, not wanting to embarrass himself by coming too fast. Mike hopes so. He could do this for a full half hour if Jay lets him. 

“Any notes for me?” Mike asks when he pulls back, leaving his lips close enough to bump Jay’s slick cockhead while he waits for an answer, teasing. He’s holding Jay’s legs open, and can see on Jay’s face that his sense of control is all gone. Jay looks like he barely knows how to translate what Mike just said, his eyelids heavy and his mouth hanging open. 

“Don’t stop,” Jay says when he’s regained enough composure to speak. “Please. Mike?”

“Gonna come in my mouth?”

“Fuck-- Yes, ah--” 

“Gonna hold my head down and make me swallow it?”

“Mike--” 

Mike has mercy and takes Jay back into his mouth, also because he can’t wait any longer himself. He fucking loves the feeling of holding Jay inside him like this, being on his knees for Jay but having him totally in hand at the same time, able to wring filthy noises out of him with careful passes of his tongue while holding him snugly in his mouth. It makes him feel stupidly accomplished, and giving head has never been like this with other people. He’s good at it, whatever the anatomy, but nobody has ever made him feel like he’s earned praise for this quite so much as Jay, and when he pulls Mike’s hair it feels so fucking affectionate. 

Jay comes with a broken cry that was almost Mike’s name and flops back onto the bed while Mike swallows it down, leaning up onto his knees to adjust to the new angle and not sliding free until Jay is whimpering and pushing at his forehead, overwhelmed. Mike licks at him even as he relents, making him whimper again. 

“God, you taste the same,” Mike says, and when Jay lifts his head just enough to lock eyes with him he’s afraid for a moment he’ll burst into tears. Then he remembers how painfully hard his dick is, and thereafter can only think about how badly he needs to shove it into Jay’s mouth as soon as possible, or elsewhere if Jay will let him. 

“Do I really?” Jay says, up on his elbows, blazing across his cheeks but otherwise recovering. “I, ah. My diet’s way different.”

“You fucking dork,” Mike says, his voice breaking with fondness as he crawls up over Jay on the bed, trying for a kiss.

Jay stops him with a hand at the center of his chest, his brow pinching slightly.

“Let me do you now,” Jay says. His eyes soften, maybe because he sees the defeated longing on Mike’s face. “Okay?”

“Okay.”

Mike grabs Jay by the waist and ignores his yelp, lifting him off the bed entirely. He reverses their positions with a grunt, helping Jay slide onto his knees at the side of the bed and sitting there to open his legs around Jay’s shoulders, smirking down at the look on Jay’s face. Jay is nakedly impressed for a blink, then he’s giving Mike that petulant look again, warning him about breaking the rules of professionalism or whatever the hell excuse he wants to use to keep Mike an at arm’s length, even now. 

“Oh, but, actually,” Mike says, nudging at Jay with his shoe. He hasn’t undone a single button on his own clothing yet yet, his cock pressed lewdly against the crotch of his jeans. He’s so hard it hurts not to unzip, but he has a plan for that. “Back up a little,” Mike says, having a hard time even wrapping his mind around hot it is to see Jay obey him, naked and on his knees, while Mike rises to his feet above him, fully dressed. “If we’re gonna practice. Vince is always standing when Barney blows him.” 

Jay says nothing but seems to agree to this plan, resting his hands on his thighs. He stares up into Mike’s face, then straight ahead at his crotch as Mike finally thumbs his jeans open, groaning with relief at the release of pressure on his dick as he pulls the zipper down. 

“I’m gonna workshop my in-character dirty talk while we do this,” Mike says, taking himself out and letting Jay stare while he gives himself a few indulgent strokes, his whole body singing for how good this feels already. “That okay with you?” he asks, wondering if he should be so bold as to nudge Jay’s face with his cockhead to knock him out of the trance he seems to have dropped into. He uses his hand instead, giving Jay a tender brush on the cheek with the backs of his fingers, making his expression one of mocking enjoyment to hide how much he meant the sweetness in that gesture, too. 

“What-- Yeah.” Jay swallows and frowns up at Mike, his nose twitching in warning. “Of course you can.”

“Kay. Open up, then, sweetheart.”

“Vince would not call Barney that.”

“I know, but I’m working my way up to the nasty shit, Jay, gimme a break.” 

Jay shuffles forward on his knees, nearly bumping his cheek against Mike’s cock on his own. He hesitates just before contact and stares up into Mike’s face, batting his lashes. He’s either doing this as the cock-obsessed, hypnotized Barney character or just using the fact that he might be rehearsing him as an excuse to show Mike how much he wants it, that he would beg. He presses his tongue out slowly, as if the presence of Mike’s massive cock has made him timid, and gives it a tiny, testing lick.

“Fuck,” Mike says, all plans for artisan dirty talk out the window, his chest heaving as he stares down at Jay’s pretty, cock-drunk face. “Yeah. Again, more.” 

“Yes, sir,” Jay says, mumbling this shyly, red-faced.

It’s one of his lines in the script. Early on, Vince slaps Barney in the face and demands to be called sir. 

Still, it hits Mike pretty hard, and he groans from the depths of his deprived, depraved soul when Jay mouths wetly at his cockhead, rubbing the point of his tongue through the slit while he keeps his eyes pointed upward, locked on Mike’s. 

“Show me how good you can take it,” Mike says, gravel voiced and not even sure who he is right now: himself, defiling Simon’s traitorous little prince in the inner sanctuary of this obscenely oversized residence, or Vince the construction worker, having his daily meeting with the desperate little businessman who has been showing up to blow him before the work day like he can’t help it, because suddenly nothing satisfies him except this big, fat cock that he’s moaning for as he takes it into his mouth, deep enough to choke a little as his throat closes around it.

Jay looks fucking perfect like this, won’t miss a step on set. Mike rocks shallowly into his mouth and grins at the way Jay goes still for it, letting Mike set the pace. Mike grabs a handful of Jay’s hair and pulls, laughing at the back of is throat for the way Jay moans for it just like he always did, his mouth getting soaked around Mike’s cock as Mike fucks in just gently for now, rolling his hips slow and steady while Jay takes it. Jay’s eyes have slipped closed and he’s drooling, his hands limp on his thighs. If he hadn’t just come he’d be hard just for this. 

“Yeah, look at you,” Mike says, dragging his fingers through Jay’s hair and remembering his plan to try out some lines. “Can’t help yourself, can you? Now that you’ve had a taste, you’re gonna need this every day. S’gonna hurt not to have it. My come’s your fucking medicine now.” 

He withholds the insults that his Vince character would have mixed in: slut, bitch, comedump. They don’t really suit the moment. Mike feels fucking protective, watching Jay like this. A stab of worry that he’ll feel that way on set pierces his reverie for a moment, then Jay twists his tongue around his shaft and Mike moans, letting everything but how good this feels go, for now.

“So good at this,” Mike says when Jay is deep throating him, his eyes watering at the corners when he strains for more, shoulders bouncing with little coughs. “Fuck, you’re eager. Look at you loving on that cock. Taking such good fucking care of me, yeah.”

Again, this is probably too soft for Vince’s dialogue, but-- Whatever. That’s what workshopping is for, and Mike is really talking to Jay, anyway.

Jay seems fine with it when he opens his glazed eyes and looks up at Mike, just holding Mike on his tongue while he breathes through his nose and scratches softly at the tops of his own thighs, stroking his skin like he has to soothe himself through how good it is to finally get this. 

“You’re all overwhelmed by how much you love having that dick in your mouth,” Mike says, his voice dripping with a kind of tender ridicule, fingers tickling Jay’s cheek. He pushes in a little to feel the shape of his cock in Jay’s mouth as he presses the head into the soft velvet of the inside of his cheek, moaning. “That’s okay,” Mike says, running one fingertip down the length of Jay’s nose. “Gonna fuck your mouth now. Just be good and let me have you.” 

Jay tries to nod and closes his eyes, lapping at the underside of Mike’s shaft as if to signal his happy agreement. 

Mike takes his time, slowing his thrusts when he gets close and pausing to pet Jay’s hair and praise him. He’s lost any semblance of being a Vince-like guy and has fallen completely into open adoration, babbling at Jay about how good he feels, what a sweet mouth he has, how perfect he looks on his knees with his mouth stuffed with cock. Mike doesn’t give a fuck about dropping the pretense of rehearsing, and Jay is getting off on this anyway. He’s hard again, and keeps touching his stiff little prick in sneaky brushes of his thumb or pinky finger when he thinks Mike isn’t looking. 

“God, I’m gonna come so hard down your desperate throat,” Mike says when there’s no holding off any longer, Jay’s face a mess of splotchy red while Mike fucks into his mouth, the dazed expression in Jay’s eyes getting him so close. Jay closes his eyes as if to brace for what’s coming and grabs for his cock, nothing sneaky about the way he’s touching it now. Mike doesn’t object as Jay starts to pump himself in time with Mike’s unhinged thrusts, Jay’s knees spreading apart wider on the cold hardwood floor. “Yeah,” Mike grits out, sweat streaking down his back inside his t-shirt. “Jerk yourself off to that feeling, down there at my-- fuh, fucking feet. Feels good, Jay, huh? Fucking come for me, that’s right. With my dick down your throat, show me how much you like it when I use you hard.”

Jay groans, his hand speeding frantically on his cock at the sound of that. Mike actually comes before Jay does, for that sound he just made and for the vibrating feeling of it around his already hypersensitive cock. He lets his head fall back and just unloads heedlessly, trusting Jay to take it all. When he’s spilt all of it down Jay’s throat he tips his head forward again, panting his breath, and pulls free from Jay’s puffy lips just as Jay comes with a ragged little shout, shooting weak spurts of white onto Simon’s shiny wood floor. 

Mike stumbles back a bit, weak-kneed, and Jay falls forward, bracing his hands on the floor, his back and shoulders heaving as he breathes through it. He’s shaky when Mike reaches down to help him up, and he holds onto Mike’s arms to get his balance, letting Mike steer him toward the bed on unsteady legs. 

“Holy fuck, man,” Mike says, dropping down onto the bed beside Jay, who flops there on his back, hands over his face. He’s still breathing hard, mouth open, and he flinches a little when Mike touches his shoulder. “Hey,” Mike says, making his voice soft-- For real this time, no teasing, no act. He strokes Jay’s trembling shoulder with his thumb. “You okay?”

“Yes,” Jay says. “Hah, jesus, I-- Yeah.” 

“Liked that, huh?” Mike says, allowing a little smugness in when Jay pulls his hands away from his eyes and shows Mike he’s not, like, crying or anything. Mike grins and touches Jay’s bottom lip with his thumb, rubbing at the bright red slickness there, admiring his cock’s handiwork. 

“Don’t,” Jay says when Mike tries to lean in for a kiss, figuring he’d better try it before Jay gets his whole brain back.

“Why not,” Mike says. He’s stopped short but leaves his face hovering just over Jay’s. He can feel Jay’s body heat, wants to snuggle up to it and let it make his own sweaty, overheated state that much more intense. “Coward,” Mike says when Jay just stares up at him, no easy answer for why not on hand. 

Mike waits another few seconds, watching Jay’s eyes harden against the sound of that word. Then he heaves himself away from Jay with a grunt, sitting up and scooting toward the edge of the bed, preparing to vault out of this room and the penthouse, ‘cause fuck working together for the rest of the day.

Jay grabs Mike’s arm, and Mike has to force the triumphant smile off his face before he turns back to Jay, giving him instead an angry stare that will push him even further into the reaction Mike hoped to inspire by accusing Jay of being scared. 

“What now?” Mike says when Jay moves closer to him, also glaring, breathing hard through his nose. His grip on Mike’s arm is mean, painful. “Changed your mind?” Mike says when Jay comes up onto his knees and brings their faces close together.

“You’re the one who’s gonna regret this,” Jay says.

“Regret what, Jay?”

Jay answers him with a firm, biting kiss, dragging his teeth across Mike’s bottom lip and shoving his tongue between Mike’s lips when they part for him. Mike almost whines, because it’s so clear that Jay is way, way out of practice with kissing-- It hurts, and also feels so good, knowing that he hasn’t been doing this with others. 

Mike grabs Jay’s face and gets him in line, pushing his tongue out against Jay’s and invading Jay’s mouth in answer. It’s possible he’s slightly out of practice, too, and they both laugh a little at how blunt and aggressive the kiss has become, like a shoving match. Jay pulls free to show Mike his twinkly eyes before diving back in for more kissing, still urgent but not as graceless, his mouth all soft from Mike’s use of it, and only then does Mike start to understand what Jay meant: the caution, the warning, the mention of potential regret.

Because Mike is melting into Jay, pulling him closer and breaking down with a kind of full-body, animal trust, easing all of himself right into Jay’s palms already as they come up to cup his cheeks. 

And oh god, he’s been here before, and won’t survive being turned out of Jay’s hands again. 

Mike resigns himself to either living or dying by the heat of Jay’s mouth as it opens hungrily against his, over and over, because there’s no going back now. He’s been dead until now, anyway, he realizes, as everything in him comes back to life for the little whimper Jay pushes out against his lips when Mike presses him down to the bed and slings a leg over his hips, pinning Jay back into place with his body so he won’t have to say it out loud: 

_Mine_.

**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Theme song for this chapter, shoutout to Mike for being romantic and liking the Beatles (tho he probably hated this movie lol): [I Wanna Hold Your Hand - T.V. Carpio](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=exqLZPbpYYQ)


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long delay between updates! I'm determined to finish this one by Labor Day weekend, now that I've finished some other ideas. Thanks to all who've continued to encourage me on this one, it means a lot <3333 
> 
> *

Mike is in a state of tense but persisting bliss for two days that don’t feel long enough, and then it’s the morning of Simon’s arrival in town and he’s overcome by a sense of impending doom as he drives to the airport to pick the asshole up, at Jay’s insistence. 

It’s the least I can do, Jay said the night before, when Mike was holding him on Simon’s couch after they’d made out there and jacked each other off, not a drop spilled on the upholstery thanks to Jay’s careful handling of their jizz. 

Mike resents being conscripted as the driver for this retrieval mission, but he’s doing it for Jay, not for Simon, and needs to get over his weird jealousy shit sooner rather than later, considering that way more complex adventures with Simon are soon to come. 

Also, more importantly: the past two days have been heaven, and he won’t let himself decide preemptively that it’s going to end just because someone else who’s in love with Jay is returning to the scene. 

“You’re not listening,” Jay says when they’re almost to the arrivals pick-up area. 

“Yes, I am,” Mike says, though he’s trying to figure out which lane he needs to be in and has no idea what Jay said previously.

“I was asking you if you’re planning to tell him,” Jay says, his voice tight in a way that makes Mike look over at him. Jay is red-cheeked. It’s a hot day, and Mike’s car doesn’t have the best air-conditioning, but Jay looks more nervous than overheated. 

“Tell him what?” Mike asks, surprised Jay wants to discuss this at all. Of course he’s waited until they’re literally moments away from having Simon in the backseat. 

“About--” Jay tugs on his seatbelt and fidgets. Even thinking about fucking turns him into an awkward, stammering kid, which should be hilarious, considering he’s made a career out of it. But fucking with feelings involved is different for him, hence the stammering. 

“Is it supposed to be a secret?” Mike asks, navigating the car through the maze of Ubers and Lyfts in the departures area, making his way toward arrivals. They’re supposed to meet Simon out front, so Mike won’t have to pay for parking. The whole thing is absurd, since booking a limo from the airport would be no skin off Simon’s wealthy ass, but Jay insisted. 

“It’s not a _secret_ ,” Jay says, pronouncing that last word as if the concept is childish. “I just don’t want you two to be weird about it.”

“I can’t control what he’s weird about or not, first of all, and if you’re worried that we’re going to, like, violently fight over you, don’t pretend you wouldn’t love that--” 

“Oh, fuck off!”

Mike isn’t sure why he’s laughing at Jay for this, because it’s a legitimate concern. Maybe it’s just his awful timing. Jay stays turned toward the window in a purposeful way. 

“Tell him whatever you want,” Mike says. “Or not. I’m not gonna say shit if you don’t want me to.”

“That’s not--” Jay says, and he sighs, because Simon has spotted them and is heading toward them with a huge duffel bag slung over his shoulder.

“I guess he thinks that bag makes him look rustic?” Mike says. “Like a man of the people?”

“What the hell are you talking about,” Jay asks, muttering. 

“Just expected him to have luggage that’s as posh as his penthouse, that’s all.”

Simon opens the back door on the passenger side and throws his bag in behind Mike’s seat before climbing in to buckle himself in behind Jay. 

“Oof,” he says. “The heat feels different here. Thanks for the lift.” 

“No problem,” Mike says, before Jay can say again that it’s the least he can do, because he owes Simon for the free use of his high-security residence. “How was L.A.?” 

“Temperate. And irritating. How’s everything going here?” 

Simon reaches forward to tug on the sleeve of Jay’s t-shirt to prompt a reply from him, and Mike feels his posture stiffening in response. He wants to object: that’s my boyfriend, or something, do not put your hands on him. But he and Jay haven’t ruined the thrill of the past two days of heedless kissing and blow job ‘practice’ with any sort of discussion about what they are, or aren’t, so he doesn’t say anything. 

“Everything’s going fine,” Jay says after a pause that makes it seem like he’s lying. “Shooting starts on Monday, so. That’s a little surreal.” 

“Wow, yeah. Do you guys want to rehearse today? I’ve got my lines memorized.” 

Mike almost makes a sarcastic comment about how Simon’s lines aren’t exactly difficult, as his character is just goading Jay’s into getting addicted to blow jobs via hypnotism before getting murdered by Mike’s character in the film’s fucked-up climax, but again he holds his tongue and waits to see how Jay will respond. 

“Sure,” Jay says uncertainly, glancing at Mike. “We could rehearse. If you’re not too tired after the flight?”

“Nah,” Simon says. “I slept on the plane.” 

“I guess first class makes that pretty easy,” Mike says, as if he’s never flown it himself. He and Candy used to treat themselves to first class round trip flights to Vegas from Phoenix, when they were really feeling up for making the worst decisions possible.

“What kind of rehearsing are we talking about?” Jay asks, fidgeting again. “Just script reading, right?”

“Oh, god, yeah,” Simon says, laughing. “I didn’t mean. Uhh--” 

“Whatever Jay wants,” Mike says, so grimly that Jay laughs under his breath. 

“Yeah, man,” Simon says, tugging on Jay’s sleeve again. “You okay?”

“I’m fine,” Jay says, sounding insulted. “Nobody on this production gets to treat me like I’m delicate or whatever.” He looks pointedly at Mike. “Got it?”

“I know exactly how delicate you’re not,” Mike says, and Jay is grinning when he looks over at him. 

It’s awkward to park at Simon’s place and ride up to the penthouse together with him, especially considering the last time Mike was in this elevator with Jay they were kissing and grinding on each other as it ascended. Jay had been all pink-cheeked when Mike dragged him into Simon’s lobby by the hand, tripping over himself, bright-eyed. They’ve been acting like kids getting away with something for the past forty-eight hours, since Mike mounted Jay on the guest room bed after their first round of blow job practice. Now they’re back in the presence of the man of the house, the financier of the glossy backdrop of most of their makeouts, and Mike isn’t sure if it’s just him, but he feels increasingly like they’ve been caught misbehaving by some type of authority figure and are about to get a talking to about reality. 

“It’s good to be home,” Simon says when he’s put his bag away and emerged from his bedroom in fresh clothes: track pants and a t-shirt with a v-neck that looks suspiciously like one that Jay owns. 

“Isn’t L.A. your home?” Mike asks. He’s seated on the couch next to Jay, across from the one where they made out, came, and cuddled last night. Simon takes that one. 

“Sorta,” Simon says, wincing. “But it’s never given me this feeling that the midwest does, like I can finally let out my breath.”

“Huh,” Mike says, not sure what that means, just that it’s pretentious as fuck. Jay shifts on the couch beside him. He’s got a copy of their script in his lap. 

“We really don’t have to do this now,” Jay says, to Simon. “If you’re tired.”

“Do I look tired?” Simon smiles at Jay after asking, as if to suggest he’d be hurt if Jay thought so. “I’m fine. Curious to see how you guys have refined your characters since I’ve been away.”

Mike withholds a groan, because now it feels like an assignment, like they’re being judged. Also, Simon isn’t wrong that they should have been actually workshopping their character dialogue instead of shoving their tongues and dicks into each other’s mouths nonstop for the past two days. 

“I think a lot of the character stuff is going to come together on set,” Jay says, a little stiffly. Maybe he’s feeling defensive about how they’ve been spending their time recently. Mike shifts closer to him, approving of this. 

“Fair enough,” Simon says, and he grins. Mike wishes Simon wasn’t actually kind of cute when he smiles, but he can’t deny it’s a thing. “I’m a little rusty when it comes to sets like this, so. I’ll be counting on you guys to tell me if I’m screwing anything up.”

“Won’t be a problem,” Mike says, and Simon laughs. 

Jay opens the script, blushing maybe because he still needs it, while Simon does seem to actually have Dr. Lombard’s lines memorized. Mike hates the opening scene dialogue, but it’s a necessary evil to get to the post-hypnotism stuff, which is better. 

“Still feel like smoking?” Simon asks after his character has snapped Jay out of his hypnotic trance. 

“Wow,” Jay says, barely attempting to act. “I really don’t!” 

“You’re going to open on him dragging on a cigarette, right?” Simon says, shifting away from the script to look at Mike. “Like with closeups on his mouth?”

“Uh, no,” Jay says. 

“Why not?” Simon asks. “Your mouth is, like. Well. The feature here, in a way, yeah?”

“We should do at least one scene of you smoking and angsting about it,” Mike says. He shrugs when Jay wrinkles his nose. “It’s a good idea. We don’t have to add dialogue, just a couple of opening shots that we can run credits over.”

“They could be kind of moody glamour shots,” Simon says, looking more excited about this than Mike would like him to. “Mike, you’re so good at shooting him-- Have you spent anything on wardrobe yet?”

“We don’t really need to,” Jay says. “Mike is in jeans and a t-shirt with a tool belt the whole time. And my guy is just a white-collar businessman.”

“And you have clothes for that? That’ll look good on camera?”

“Uhhh--” Jay glances at Mike, like he’s familiar with Jay’s wardrobe. “I’m sure I have something, back at my place. The stuff I wore to my sister’s wedding--”

“I was just thinking about it, because I have some things that would fit you perfectly,” Simon says, standing. “From back when I was in good shape like you. You want to take a look? We’re about the same height.” 

Again, Jay looks at Mike as if to ask his permission. Mike isn’t sure what Simon is suggesting. They’re going to strip Jay and dress him up together? 

“Come on, take a look,” Simon says, beckoning them to follow him as he walks from the living room area. “It’ll help you get in character if you dress the part.”

Jay laughs in an insecure huff at this observation that he’s obviously having a hard time getting into character even for a script read. Mike noticed, too, but wasn’t about to say so. 

Which is maybe a point that Simon is proving, intentionally or not. Mike is going to have a hard time directing Jay because he wants to be soft on him, to not spook him away from this thing they’ve fallen back into. 

Mike glances guiltily at Simon’s enormous bed as they pass it on their way to his immaculately organized walk-in closet. Mike hasn’t been brazen enough to fool around with Jay in Simon’s bed. They’ve stuck to Jay’s windowless little guest room or the couches, and yesterday Jay climbed into Mike’s lap in the editing suite at his place, which Mike can’t think about if he doesn’t want to get a rude boner that will only make this situation more weird. 

But Mike did sleep in Simon’s bed that one night, and he’s increasingly certain that Jay climbed in with him and curled up against his back at one point, probably hoping Mike wouldn’t wake and catch him trying to sneak in some late night affection. 

“Here we go,” Simon says, rifling through shirts hanging toward the back of his closet, along the left wall. Jay is standing behind him with his hands shoved into the pockets of his jeans. Mike lingers in the closet doorway. “How about this?” Simon asks, pulling out a slim button-down shirt that’s somewhere between slate gray and light blue. “It’ll make your eyes look nice,” he says, holding the shirt up against Jay’s chest. 

His eyes always look nice, Mike wants to say. He just stands there watching as Simon picks out a pair of form-fitting gray slacks for Jay, too.

“We can build your guy a whole wardrobe,” Simon says, piling things into Jay’s arms. “What do you want me to wear as the doctor, by the way? Are we going full lab coat, or something more subtle?”

“This picture is not exactly the height of subtlety,” Mike says, disliking how he feels diminished by Simon’s view of it already, though he knew he would be and that he more or less deserves it, for never having tried a fraction as hard as Simon did to make anything less obvious than porn with heart. 

“I was thinking a sweater vest,” Simon says, touching his chin while he peruses his wardrobe. “It’ll make me look older, and therefore more predatory.”

Mike has to stop himself from repeating ‘and therefore’ mockingly. He really doesn’t like feeling this way, and knows he’s doing it to himself, that it’s not Simon’s fault or intention to make him feel angry and small by comparison, despite the fact that Mike towers over Simon. His height hasn’t really meant shit for his confidence in a long time. 

“That’ll work,” Mike says, feeling defeated when Simon pulls out a sweater vest with an argyle pattern. It reminds Mike too much of one that Jay sometimes wore back in the day, when he was playing Dex, but their audience will probably like that, if anyone even remembers or notices. 

Jay dresses in some of Simon’s old clothes before rejoining them in the living room, and Mike’s heart sinks when he sees Simon was right: they fit Jay like they were tailor made for him, and he’s walking with a new confidence already. Mike pictures Jay on his knees in this getup, between Simon’s legs, on set, and starts to sweat under his clothes. 

“This will make it perfect,” Simon says, grabbing one of the ties he brought out with the pile of other clothes. He approaches Jay with it as if he’s going to put it on for him, as if Jay doesn’t know how. 

“I don’t want him looking too fancy,” Mike says, finding his voice for the first time in what feels like an hour. “He’s supposed to be sort of a pathetic grunt with a cubicle, not some flashy hedge fund manager.”

“But the tie is symbolic,” Simon says, holding it up so Jay will take it. He does-- Obediently, Mike thinks, lip curling. “He’s bottled up and repressed more than anything else, right? Plus, you could use it as a prop later. You can’t tell me your construction worker guy wouldn’t want to yank this off of him and tie his hands together with it.”

Mike wants to argue that, but Simon is right. That would be hot, and it’s a good way to escalate a scene. Jay threads the tie through the collar of the shirt and turns toward Mike. 

“I haven’t worn a tie since high school graduation,” Jay says, his cheeks coloring again when Mike gives him an uncertain look. “Help?”

“Sure,” Mike says, his voice almost breaking with relief and also at the thought of tiny Jay wearing a cheap tie at his high school graduation. Mike’s hands shake a little as he makes a knot and pushes it up toward Jay’s bobbing throat. He thinks of how Jay described his high school self when they met in college: angry, clueless but driven, skinny enough to be carried away by a strong wind.

“Wasn’t there a tornado at your graduation ceremony?” Mike asks as he’s neatening the tie, to flex his I-know-Jay-better muscle in front of Simon. 

“Yep,” Jay says. “I took it as a good omen.” 

“Like finally something was going to carry you out of Kansas?” Simon says, and he smiles placidly when they look over at him. 

“Jay grew up here in Wisconsin,” Mike says, surprised that Simon doesn’t know, or forgot.

“It’s a _Wizard of Oz_ joke,” Jay says to Mike, gently. 

“Oh-- Right--” 

That’s the point at which Mike properly feels like an idiot, and also like he won’t climb out of this shitty mood until he removes himself from Simon’s unbothered presence. He keeps wanting to blurt something about how he and Jay have been ‘practicing,’ and that he’s been thinking about including a kiss scene in the movie since the blow job practice has lead to so much of that, too. Before he can do anything that stupid or worse, he makes an excuse about needing to run by Candy’s place before he goes home, and tells Jay he’ll pick him up for work in the morning as usual as he makes his way toward the door.

“I could drop him off at your place tomorrow,” Simon says. “So you don’t have to double back. Or you guys could work here, if--”

“It’s fine,” Mike says. “We have a routine, and it’s working.” 

He didn’t mean to say so as if he’s losing his patience, but it came out harsh and now the three of them are standing in awkward silence in Simon’s spa-like front lobby.

“Gotcha,” Simon says. “I know what it’s like when you get into a rhythm.” 

Mike nods and meets Jay’s eyes. What would Jay do if Mike leaned in to kiss him goodbye? He would probably sputter a fake laugh and push Mike away. He looks cute in Simon’s clothes, including the slightly loosened tie, and Mike fully plans to do as Simon suggested and use it to bind Jay’s hands behind his back during one of their scenes. 

“See you tomorrow,” Jay says, which feels like a prompt to just leave already, so Mike does.

It’s still bright and hot out when Mike drives home, mid-afternoon. The heat won’t burn off till nine o’clock, when Mike is home alone and probably drunk, making himself feel worse with whatever thoughts of inadequacy he’ll have dredged up to add to his growing pile. Last night he had Jay climbing into his lap at Simon’s place, reaching into Mike’s pants with a sigh that sounded like relief when his hand closed around the thickening shaft of his dick. Mike had stared at Jay’s mouth while Jay stroked him, had licked Jay’s lips between every heaving breath. Simon is right. They have to open this movie with lewd, beautiful footage of Jay’s mouth. 

Mike checks his phone when he gets home, not sure what he expected Jay to send. There’s nothing from him, just a text from Rich reminding Mike that he’ll be hitting the road with Marianne for a full three weeks starting tomorrow, so does Mike have everything he needs?

Well, no, Mike thinks, staring down at the text. He understands why Rich is fleeing this shoot, and agrees with him that it would be too weird for him to stay, but it feels like the worst kind of omen, too. An essential element of Mike’s safe haven is retreating already. 

He drinks and gets himself into enough of a state about things by sundown that he’s pulling up their first time video, the one thing they’ve ever shot that only the two of them have seen, as if it’s a spell he can cast over his current uncertainty. 

He feels guilty as soon as it’s playing, but it’s not like he’s got his hand down his pants. He can’t jerk off to this video, though the noises Jay makes usually get him hard. It’s not a matter of considering it sacred, though of course he does. It’s just too frustrating to watch this and not actually be able to travel back through time. Mild arousal can never fight past the disappointment of remembering that when the video ends, he’s not going to be the one standing naked beside the camera he just turned off, asking Jay if he should delete what they accidentally filmed. He’ll be so fucking far away from that guy, watching from the other side of the screen.

The beginning of the video might actually be Mike’s favorite part, though it also tears at his heart hardest. Jay is on the sofa, draping the blanket over himself, setting up for the scene, giving Mike nervous looks. 

“Should I put on porn?” Mike asks from off camera. “To get you in the mood?”

“The mood?” Jay makes an adorable face, showing his teeth. “No, I can-- It’s just a hand motion.” 

“Don’t forget to bite your lip.”

“Shut up,” Jay says, and he grins.

Mike runs his hand over his face, remembering how that sudden little smile from Jay would hit him low in the gut, warmth spreading outward until it had touched every corner of him. Jay would do it in this certain way, when he did it for Mike, lowering his head and looking up at Mike through his gold eyelashes with a quirk at the corner of his lips, like he knew he was being bad, that taunting Mike with looks like that was driving him crazy. 

“Action,” Mike says in the video, and Jay focuses his gaze on the silent TV out of frame, his fist moving in a comical jerk-off fashion under the blanket. 

“Fuck,” Jay says, soft, like he’s frustrated by how good it feels to touch himself, and Mike shifts in his seat with a groan. 

“Good,” Mike says in the video, and Jay gives him a glance. “Now do one with, uhh. Moaning.” 

“When’s the last time you moaned out loud when jerking off?” Jay asks, looking at Mike like he’s being dumb. 

“Okay, fine,” Mike says. “Do one with your eyes closed and your head tipped back.”

“He’s watching porn!” Jay says, gesturing to the TV with the hand that’s not under the blanket. 

“Yeah, but eventually he gets so into it, ‘cause he’s close, you know, he’s about to come--”

“Jesus,” Jay says, snickering and red-faced. 

And then the moment that changed everything, though maybe its equivalent would have come the next day if Mike hadn’t dared it then, or a week later, or several years down the road. Still, he holds it up as the great achievement of his life, when he was brave enough to say the thing that made Jay roll over for him at last. 

“Okay,” Mike says in the video, flat-voiced because he meant it as a joke and didn’t want to blow the delivery by smirking. “Now get your dick out and do a take without the blanket.”

Jay stares up at Mike in the video, still half-smiling. He throws the blanket away, grabs the waistband of his sweatpants and underwear, and shoves both down to his knees like an exhibitioinist cliff diver who’s done this a thousand times. 

“Like this?” he says, holding Mike’s gaze while he grabs his half-chub and starts jacking himself according to Mike’s instruction.

“Ffffuck,” Mike says, stuttering like he’s already completely outmatched.

“Not like this?” Jay says, his hand going still, eyebrows shooting up.

Mike sees it now as a panicked attempt to maybe backtrack. At the time, Mike’s heart had been pounding so hard that he couldn’t make sense of Jay’s nervous inflection. He was so overcome that he automatically assumed Jay knew exactly what he was doing, because Jay had just reordered Mike’s entire world with one lunatic gesture.

“Yeah,” Mike says in the video. “Like that.”

Mike rolls his eyes at his past self. He was already trying to pitch his shaky voice deeper and attempt to be cool, recover from his shock, and take control. 

“Hmm,” Jay says, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips as he starts moving his hand on his shaft again, slowly. He’s fully hard, knees spreading. “What kind of movie are we really making here, Mike?”

“Jay,” Mike says, breathing his name out and dropping the attempt to act cool, because Jay just said his name while touching his dick. 

Mike sort of leaps into frame at that point, catapulting himself toward the couch and onto Jay, who laughs in a nervous stutter when Mike straddles him, obscuring the camera’s view of Jay, except for his spread-apart legs as the sweatpants and boxers slip down to pool around his ankles. 

“Wow, really?” Jay says when Mike swoons in to kiss him.

Mike has never been entirely sure what Jay meant by that. It took them a while to even dare to watch this recording after realizing they’d left the camera on. Mike had been afraid doing so would break some kind of spell, but after several months of avoiding it, and increasingly bold talks about how much they had maybe liked doing it, they finally watched it together. Mike’s heart sort of stuttered at the ‘wow, really?’ part during their first viewing, because somehow he hadn’t remembered Jay saying that. He’d wanted to ask why he had, and what Jay had been thinking just before their lips touched, but they were both tense and staring intently at the screen, and Mike didn’t say anything, then or later. 

They kiss for a long time, laughing against each other’s lips and sucking in disbelieving deep breaths before diving back for more. Mike always gets annoyed with this part of the video, because he can’t see enough of Jay around the shape of his own bigger body. 

He takes his eyes away from the screen and listens to the soft, wet noises of their kissing. His phone is on the desktop by his mouse. He turns it over and imagines sending a text to Jay now: so what did you mean when I went in for our first kiss and you said ‘wow, really?’ And why didn’t that stop me in my tracks in terror?

He feels almost panicked at the thought that it might have, and that Jay would have backed down in response to his hesitation. For once, watching this, he’s relieved that nothing in the past can be changed by revisiting it. 

When he looks back up at the computer screen, he’s shifted Jay onto his back in the video and is looming overtop him, both of them stretched out horizontally overtop the abandoned prop blanket, Jay’s pants and underwear lingering around only one of his ankles now, his other leg clamped against Mike’s side. They’re both hard at this point, and their kissing has slowed down enough to allow for dazed, searching looks into each other’s eyes while they try to breathe through their shock and excitement. 

“I wasn’t sure if you--” Mike starts to say in the video, almost too quiet to hear. 

“You’ll have to tell me what to do,” Jay says, squashing Mike’s attempt to talk about his feelings. It was the right move, Mike must admit, though he was a little hurt at the time.

“What to do?”

“I’ve never--”

Jay trails off there and moans a little, coming up onto his bony elbows and kissing Mike again, to keep from having to say out loud that he was still a virgin when this happened.

It’s cinematic, Mike thinks, resisting the impulse to drunkenly brush his fingertips over the image of the two of them on screen. It’s a flat shot, badly mic’d with insufficient lighting, the video quality fuzzy with age, but it’s the best thing he’s ever captured on tape, because you can feel the buzz of the rest of their lives taking shape in the room around them as they cling to each other. There's pure worship on Mike’s face when he takes off Jay’s shirt and touches his skinny chest like it’s the hottest thing he’s ever seen, because it was. Jay’s little noises that the mic barely picks up are like licks of heat against Mike’s dick even now, making his hands twitch over his knees with the need to settle over Jay’s ribs like they did that day, before sliding upward to feel his wild heartbeat under the heat of his skin. 

This is what really being in love with somebody looks like, Mike thinks, taking a slug from the beer he’s got open on his desktop. He almost wants to show other people, sometimes. Like Simon, maybe. What would he think of this, Mike has to wonder.

“Oh god,” Jay keeps saying in the video, soft and astonished while he looks down between their now-naked bodies and watches Mike stroking his dick. Mike is watching Jay’s face, drinking in his reactions. He was drunk on them, could have watched Jay’s micro expressions for hours as he slowly unraveled under Mike’s hands. Later in their relationship, he would.

“I want to fuck you,” Mike says, and finally Jay looks up at him, mouth hanging open. “Do you know that?” 

Mike remembers feeling stupid but trying so hard to stay cool and to seem a bit dangerous, because that was the kind of guy he thought Jay would want. 

“I didn’t know,” Jay says, his voice pinched. He’s not choked up, exactly. He just sounds a little squeezed, like the pressure of what he wants is up against one side of him and the fear of not knowing how it will feel to get it is snug against the other. 

“Here,” Mike says, reaching for the bottle of lube that they’d set out on the table beside the couch as a prop for the jerk-off scene. It’s actual lube, belonging to Mike, who grins now and feels his eyes get wet at the corners as he watches Jay staring up at his bared chest in awe when it’s stretched out overtop him, then up into his face when he’s squatting on Jay’s pinned hips again. 

“Yeah,” Jay says when he sees the lube in Mike’s hand. “Okay, do it.”

“Shut up,” Mike says, laughing fondly and leaning down to kiss him on the lips. He laughs again when Jay bites him for being told to shut up. “You’re cute,” Mike says, stroking Jay’s spiky bangs back so they’re even dorkier, standing up tall. “You’re so cute, Jay.” 

“I hate you,” Jay says, and then he beams. “Stop saying that and fuck me.”

“You serious?” Mike sits up on his knees and shows Jay the full weight and length of his cock, stroking it with the hand that isn’t holding the lube. “You think this is for beginners?”

“This-- Your dick?” Jay giggles madly and reaches for it, then loses his nerve and licks his lips, staring up at Mike with his greedy, nervous hands twitching on his belly. “Maybe I like big dicks.”

“Oh jesus,” Mike says, collapsing onto him for more kissing. “You do?” he says when he pulls back, and Jay just laughs.

They look so happy, Mike thinks, only partway registering that one of these people was him, once. It’s not something he can forget, but he feels removed from the information, like he can’t really wrap his head around it even as he knows it’s true. 

Mike loves this next part and watches intently, his heart beating fast and his face hovering closer to the screen. In the video he’s kneeling between Jay’s skinny, trembling legs, pumping lube into his palm. He knows Jay is expecting one thing, the opposite of what Mike is about to do. That’s why he’s trembling. Or, part of why. 

Jay is breathing hard, watching Mike’s hand as it comes down between them to slick up Jay’s cock instead of his own. Jay gasps and lifts his hips to fuck Mike’s fist erratically, his back arching and his chest opening. He looks so small under Mike, and very pale against the orange-red couch cushions and dark blue blanket. 

“I’ll show you, first,” Mike says, his other hand gentle on Jay’s cheek while Jay loses it and writhes up into Mike’s grip on his dick. “We can’t-- You’re too-- Just, watch.”

As if watching was all Jay was going to do as Mike knelt up over him and started to guide Jay’s dick into place, inside him. 

“Oh fuck,” Jay says, his voice a husky, broken thing when he realizes what’s happening, eyes blown open wide. “Muh. Mike--?”

“This okay?”

“Yuh, yeah, ah, _fuck_ \--”

Mike still flushes every time he watches himself sink down onto Jay’s dick in this video. It’s the only time they ever shot him doing this, and it’s Jay’s visible surrender to the feeling that makes Mike blush even after half a lifetime spent working in porn. The heavy-lidded look of satisfaction on his own face does something to him, too. He’d been fucked before, but it had been mostly an act of curiosity in the past, nothing to do with wanting to be so close to someone that they were inside him. Jay’s dick was on the thick side but not big enough to hurt. It just felt good, and so intense that they both laughed nervously and kissed again. Their height difference allowed Mike to bend down over Jay and kiss him squarely on the mouth even while they were locked together like that. 

“Holy fuck,” Jay says, whispering this directly into Mike’s mouth. “Jesus, ah, mhm, Mike--”

“You okay?” Mike asks, sweeping his thumbs over Jay’s sweaty temples. 

“Mph,” Jay says, nodding. He looks lost but not in a bad way, his mouth open around his choppy breaths and his hips starting to twitch curiously. “Oh, fuh, fuck that’s--”

“Feels good?” Mike asks, grinding his hips down. 

Jay moans and grabs Mike’s waist with both hands, throwing his head back. Mike grins and looks nothing but triumphant, his cock rock hard between their bodies. He bounces on Jay a little, experimentally, moaning more for the way Jay’s face contracts in a panic of pleasure than for the feeling of Jay’s dick moving inside him. 

“I’m gonna--” Jay says. He’s panting, his eyes screwed shut. “Mike, I’ll, please--” 

“Shh, not yet." Mike goes still and presses his face against Jay’s throat. Watching this, he remembers precisely how warm and damp Jay’s skin was against his cheek, and how good it felt to just hide there while Jay’s pulse went crazy. “I’m not done yet,” Mike says, moving his lips to Jay’s ear. It’s barely audible on the recording, but Mike will never forget a word either of them said that day. He’s wide-eyed, watching now, like any of it is new. 

“Mike,” Jay says, whimpering his name out. His hands are shaky on Mike’s sides, touching but no longer gripping, like he’s not sure it’s allowed. 

“Did you hear me?” Mike asks, louder now. “I’m not done with your dick yet, Jay. So don’t you dare fucking come.”

“Oh _fuck_ \--”

Jay whines, high and reedy, when Mike rolls his hips back. Jay's eyes fly open, and he grabs Mike’s face when Mike leans down to kiss him again. Everything about the way Mike moves in this video is languid and in control, like he’s melting into the ease of it. Jay is a mess, meanwhile, hiccuping near-sobs when he gets so close, so fast, that it hurts not to come. 

“Please, please, please,” Jay says, his lips bumping against Mike’s when he begs. Their eyes are locked, and they both have their hands cupped around each other’s cheeks, faces close. “Mike, ah, god, please--” 

“Okay, okay,” Mike says, whispering against Jay’s mouth. He gives Jay a prim kiss there before lifting his hips and slamming himself back down, groaning along with Jay for the relief of finally fucking himself on Jay’s dick properly. 

Jay shouts Mike’s name when he comes, his head thrown back and his fingers digging hard into Mike’s hips. He croaks out a little moan along with the last pulses of his dick, and Mike sways overtop him, watching. He remembers feeling every throb of Jay’s fat little cock when he came, and being kind of shocked by that, because if he’d felt that with other guys, even the ones who were much bigger, he’d never cared enough to notice. 

“Good,” Mike says, the gravelly pitch of his voice betraying that he’s close, too.

He watches himself shove his thumb into Jay’s slick, panting mouth and remembers doing that because he was afraid he’d never get the chance again, having no idea how Jay would react to what they’d just done after they moved apart. 

Jay opens for Mike’s thumb and moves his tongue against it weakly, staring up at Mike with what looks like a kind of satisfied confusion. 

“Just hold still,” Mike says, as if Jay is going anywhere. Mike is stroking his cock with his other hand while he fucks his thumb into Jay’s wet mouth. If the shot was better it would be clear that his eyes have gone kind of wild and glazed. 

He’s not fucking himself on Jay’s spent, softening cock when he comes, just holding it inside him while he jacks off all over Jay’s chest, marking him. Jay makes a pinched squeaking noise when Mike’s come hits his skin, most of it landing between his nearly nonexistent pecs, some splashing as high as his throat. He’s calmed a little after his own orgasm and hisses when Mike sighs and shifts on his overstimulated dick. 

“Fuck, man,” Mike says, scrubbing at his face with the heel of his hand and pushing out a laugh that’s clearly fake.

He was trying to play it cool again as his orgasm wound down and he started to doubt this could be real. He remembers feeling like he’d just landed back in his body after leaving the planet with Jay squeezed between his legs, carried helplessly along with him, and not being sure how Jay would feel about the journey once they’d returned to Earth.

In the video, he pulls off of Jay’s dick with a groan and hovers over him, studying Jay's face and sweeping his sweaty fringe back, the tips of their noses touching. 

“Okay?” Mike asks, his voice near-breaking because that question felt like a marriage proposal: okay, this is what we are now, for good, forever, right?

“Mike,” Jay says, soft, like he understands perfectly and is agreeing to all of that. 

Mike kisses him deeply, plunging his tongue into Jay’s mouth. Jay is still pretty out of it at first, responding in tired licks and making overwhelmed noise against Mike’s lips. Then he winds his arms around Mike’s neck and kisses him back with renewed energy, his skinny legs lifting to wrap around the small of Mike’s back and keep him in place. 

“That felt so fucking good,” Mike says, muttering this into Jay’s mouth. He’d needed to make sure Jay thought so, too. 

“Ah,” Jay says, nodding. He’s still all flushed. 

Mike remembers the smell of Jay's sweat, which he’d gotten off on before, back when Mike was still just longing for him. He moans under his breath, watching himself lick some of that sweat from Jay’s jaw. Mike sighs a lot during this part of the video. He’s gazing down at Jay with unmasked adoration, petting him. He remembers wanting to stay like that forever, and not remotely caring that Jay’s jizz was dripping out of him and down the insides of his thighs. There was kind of a lot of it, which was cute. Mike had never let somebody come in him without a condom before. 

“Here,” he says, tugging at the prop blanket until Jay lifts off of it enough to allow Mike to drag it onto Jay’s chest and use it to mop up his come.   
  
“Gross,” Jay says when Mike uses a corner of the blanket to gently clean the come off of Jay’s throat, but he’s smiling, starry-eyed and rubbing Mike’s biceps with his fingertips. 

“We can wash it,” Mike says. “Or, do you mean-- You, uh. Didn’t like that?” He glances up into Jay’s eyes again, uncertain. “Me coming on you?”

“I-- I don’t know!” Jay laughs in a breathless, gut-punched way. “It was fine. You could, uh. Inside, like. Next time, you could be in me. If you want.”

“Is that what you want?” Mike asks. He remembers feeling lifted back into the stars by the way Jay was looking up at him, because his face said: yes, please, I want that so bad. 

Jay chews his bottom lip and shifts under Mike’s weight but doesn’t break eye contact. 

“Yeah,” he says, so soft. He touches Mike’s chest, then his throat, his jaw. “I think. Yeah.”

“All right, then,” Mike says, as if granting Jay this favor. He shifts over to wedge himself between Jay and the back of the sofa, tucking his arm around Jay’s shoulders and rolling him so they’re facing each other, offering the camera a good view of Jay’s still-unfucked little ass and reaching down to palm it absently. “I’ll just have to train you, first.”

“Train me?” Jay says, sounding like himself again: skeptical and slightly annoyed.

“Yeah, I can’t just shove in here. You’ve seen-- Well.” Mike presses his hips forward to flop his dick against Jay’s belly. Even soft, it’s big. “I’m gonna have to teach you how to take this.” 

He said this in part to guarantee lots of sex with Jay in the days and weeks to come, wanting to draw up a schedule. Also, he hoped it would be hot. The hypnotized way Jay was looking at him and the way his breath came a little faster told Mike to keep going. 

“Don’t worry, baby,” Mike says, squeezing Jay’s shoulder in one hand while still gripping his ass possessively with the other. “When you’re ready? Gonna fuck you so hard.” 

“God,” Jay breathes out, curling himself in close to Mike’s chest. “Yes, just-- Yeah. But don’t call me that.”

“Huh?”

“Baby, or. Anything like that--”

“You’re not my baby, Jay?”

“No,” Jay says, petulant and muffled against Mike’s skin, sounding like he’s denying something he knows is true.

Mike laughs and strokes Jay’s hair. He remembers-- God. Feeling like anything was possible, and also like he didn’t need to ever move again to be perfectly content. 

“That right?” Mike says, muttering against Jay’s ear. He’s also playing with Jay’s sensitive post-fuck nipples, but you can’t really see it on the video, with Jay’s back to the camera. “Hm? You don’t want me to sing you to sleep now or some shit?”

“Jesus,” Jay says, snickering. “No, never.” 

Mike licks and bites softly at Jay’s ear, then looks up and sees the camera, remembering it’s there. His eyebrows shoot up when he sees it’s also still recording.

Then it’s over, too soon, before Mike’s favorite part: asking Jay if he should delete this and Jay saying of course he shouldn’t. Mike has never felt so blissfully on the same fucked-up wavelength as another person as he did in that moment. 

When the video ends he’s half-hard and miserably lonely, same as ever, even in this brand new reality where he just held Jay in his arms again yesterday, while letting Jay press two come-coated fingers into his mouth. Mike licked them clean for the sake of Simon’s sofa, having promised Jay he wouldn’t spill a single incriminating drop. 

He wonders what Jay is doing right now. Then the wondering starts to feel like a need to know, until it becomes a kind of angry, entitled flame that’s quickly burning away all rational thought. His phone is right there, but that’s probably not a smart idea. He pulls up Jay’s channels and checks for new videos, but of course there’s nothing, not even an updated news post. 

It drives him out of his mind, and probably always will, that he feels like he should own Jay and knows he can’t, won’t, and also shouldn’t. He doesn’t deserve or even really want to possess Jay in any kind of way, because what the hell is that? It’s not part of how much he loves Jay. It’s some other, darker thing that he wishes he could dump with the rest of his youthful angst bullshit, but it’s a feeling he can’t shake, and it’s torture. 

He climbs into bed and drums on his stomach, knowing he should eat something but more inclined to wallow in his feelings just now. When he was younger, he used to let himself think about how Jay had been abandoned by two fathers, the biological one and then the stepdad who left his mom and half-sister up a creek that Jay is still battling to steer them through to this day. Mike’s possessive thing made him want to believe Jay had some unfulfilled need to be taken in hand and to feel small, sheltered, and maybe not owned but claimed and cared for by a man, by Mike. Jay certainly loved being called a good boy when he was too close to coming to have any shame left. 

Mike wonders if that’s still the case. He’s written it into their script, and so far Jay has no objections to Mike’s dickish construction worker calling him _good boy_ that with smug condescension. When Mike did it back then, as himself, there was some smugness involved, but it was more about tenderness and sincere praise, alongside this awful longing to be everything Jay has always needed, and fill all the gaps inside him in some kind of lasting way. 

He moans and drags his hands over his face. When his phone rings he shoots up like he’s been caught doing something dirty, his heart pounding. He races across the room, and wants to pitch the phone through his bedroom window when he sees it’s not Jay calling. 

It’s Gil. Always with the worst timing possible, though really there’s never a good time to get a call from Gil.

Mike thinks about how Gil brought Jay back into his life and grimaces down at his phone, feeling guilty. He should at least show some gratitude for that miracle. 

“Yeah?” he says when he answers, still not managing to be polite.

“Mike! Great news! I’m in town!”

“In-- Milwaukee?” Mike glances instinctively at his window. He wouldn’t put it past Gil to be standing out in the parking lot and waving up at him with a maniac grin on his face. 

“No, Chicago, but I’m gonna cruise by the studio tomorrow, if that’s cool with you.” 

“We’re not shooting till next week.” As if Gil would be welcome on any of Mike’s sets during a shoot, least of all this one.

“Oh, I know, I got that memo, but Under the Lake wants me to check in, see your sets, your script notes--” 

“I don’t know about that. Timing’s not great.” Gil should have that tattooed on his forehead, as far as Mike is concerned. “We’re in the middle of rehearsals. I don’t want to spook Jay,” he adds, without thinking.

“Spook him? You think I’m spooky, that I’d make him skittish?” Gil laughs in a hoarse wheeze, and Mike wonders for the first time if he’s put enough of his personal reputation on the line for this project that he’s starting to freak out about all the license he’s allowed them to have with it. 

“You know what I mean,” Mike says, though he doubts Gil does. “Simon just got back today--”

“Oooh, wonderful! I’d love to catch up with good old Simon in the meantime, too! How’s this-- If you don’t want me sniffing around your studio, the four of us could do lunch.”

“No,” Mike says, without thinking about it. “Sorry. We’re on a really tight rehearsal schedule, and I can’t speak for Simon, but he’s a busy guy, and--”

“All right, all right, the studio it is, then! Look, Mike, I don’t want to be a jackass about this, but you’re going to have to let me poke around a little. The studio gets twitchy when they’re looped out of communication on a production they’ve pumped this much money into.”

“Looped out of-- Who should I be looping in? They can contact me any time--”

“Relax, man! I’m your guy on the inside, I’ll talk you up, not that I need to, but I’ve got your back! Just let me tell them I poked my head and saw everything’s going fine.”

Mike’s jaw is clenched. He needs to get off his call before he says something rude.

“Fine,” Mike says. “In the evening, early. We’re rehearsing during the afternoon.”

“Rehearsing, listen to you! Did you and Jay rehearse, in the old days? Don’t answer that. Anyway, I love it. You’re a pro now, of course the process is a little different--”

“I have to go, Gil. I’m in the middle of dinner.”

“Ah, of course, sorry! Is Jay there?”

“No.” 

“He’s not? Oh, well. Everything, uh. Okay, between you two?”

“It’s wonderful. Bye!”

Mike hangs up before Gil can squawk out another syllable. He weighs the phone in his hand, his stomach growling. He really does need to eat something, but he feels like he needs to hear a kind word from Jay far more urgently. 

Calling him up is not a reliable way to get one, but Mike does it anyway. He’s not sure what he’s worried about as he listens to the phone ring. Jay doesn’t have a reason to be mean to him right now. Not that he always needs one, but. 

“Hey,” Jay says when he answers, and Mike already regrets the call, because he can hear impatience in Jay’s voice. “What’s up?”

“Gil just called me.”

“Oh god. What does he want?”

“To be shown around the studio tomorrow, unfortunately. He’s in town, and he claims Under the Lake wants to check up on us.”

“That’s probably true. What time?”

“I dunno, but you don’t have to worry about it. I’ll deal with him.” 

“No-- What? I want to be there, too.”

“Really?” Mike wants to take this as a good sign, but Jay sounds annoyed. “But you hate Gil. I just thought-- If you don’t want to deal with him, I can shield you from his presence, no problem.” 

Jay is quiet.

“Hello?” Mike says. 

“You don’t need to shield me from Gil,” Jay says. “What are you talking about?”

“Nothing-- Never mind, I just thought you might have better things to do! What are you doing right now?”

“Watching a movie. So--”

“With Simon?”

“Yes, with Simon. We can talk about Gil’s bullshit tomorrow, okay?” 

“Okay. Can I say something, though?”

“Oh god. What?”

“If Under the Lake starts to meddle, or move the goal posts, I don’t want you to feel obligated to go through with any of this. I was serious the other day, before we did that livestream. If you need me to bail you out--”

“Stop,” Jay says, in a low voice that makes Mike wonder if Simon is nearby. 

“I’m not kidding, Jay--”

“I know you’re not. Mike, goddammit.” 

There’s some muted shuffling and more heavy breathing from Jay, like he’s leaving one room at a brisk pace and headed for another, for privacy. 

“What movie are you guys watching,” Mike asks, glum. 

“I need to explain something to you,” Jay says, ignoring his attempt to change the subject. “I didn’t want to have to-- Spell it out, but I guess I do.”

Mike just groans and waits to be lectured. 

“The past couple of days have been fun,” Jay says, and Mike is relieved for half a second before he’s devastated, because oh god what is happening? “I mean-- More than fun. I really, really missed you, Mike.”

“Me too, so much, jesus christ, Jay, I miss you right _now_ \--”

“Please let me talk. It’s been great, but even if we can get through this thing without hating each other again, I’m not just going back in your, like, stable. You’re not going to manage me, or protect me, or whatever you think you’re doing when you say you’re going to meet with Gil without me.” 

“What the fuck!” Mike says, though he knows he should calm down. His heart is pounding. “I was just thinking about what you’d want.”

“Well! Maybe you don’t always know what I want! Mike, I can’t get into a fight with you right now.”

“Right, you’re watching a movie with Simon.” 

“Fuck off, you could be here if you wanted to be.” 

Mike isn’t sure that’s true. “Maybe I don’t feel quite as comfortable in his domain as you do.” 

“Yeah, it really seemed to be bugging you when I jacked you off in his living room last night.”

Mike snorts. He’s so hungry, and hates the thought of Jay snuggled up on that same sofa with Simon tonight, well fed, watching a movie. Though they’re probably not snuggling. 

“This is about me not wanting to direct you in hardcore scenes,” Mike says, though he agrees with Jay that now is not the time to fight about it. “Isn’t it?”

“Sort of. I don’t know. We can talk in the morning. I just need you to know-- When we broke up, I had to reorganize my whole life, by myself, and it was hard as fuck and I’m sick of being a webcam brand, but that doesn’t mean I’m not proud of myself for working my ass off for the following I have. I haven’t just been waiting around for you to swoop in and fix things for me.”

“I know that.”

“Do you? Okay. If you say so. Act like it, then. Stop saying you’re going to bail me out. I’m not scared. I actually want to make this fucking movie, believe it or not.”

“I do, too.”

“Yeah? Because I’m pretty sure I can smell your terror from here.”

“Oh, fuck you,” Mike says, mild and fond, because he likes the idea of Jay being able to smell him from across town. 

“I can be brave enough for both of us,” Jay says, and Mike wonders if he’s been drinking some of that high end sake. “Let me be, if you need me to. Don’t treat me like I’m this battered thing you threw away and reclaimed.”

“You threw me away,” Mike says, before he can stop himself.

Jay sucks in his breath, then exhales in a long, measured sigh. 

“I didn’t mean to,” he says, softly. “I didn’t-- Realize.”

“I know. Okay, fuck, sorry. I shouldn’t have called--” 

“It’s okay that you did,” Jay says, hurriedly, like he’s worried about Mike’s feelings. If they were younger, Mike might be insulted, but as it is he’s just glad to know Jay cares. 

“I miss you,” Mike says, again.

Jay laughs. “I saw you four hours ago.”

“More like six.”

“Okay, lunatic. But, um. If you are feeling, whatever. Nervous, or anxious. You can call me. I want you to.”

“Jay,” Mike says, almost choked up with consuming love for him. 

“Mhm,” Jay says, to acknowledge Mike’s overblown emotions and verbally pat him on the head. “Go eat something, you sound a little drunk.”

“How’d you know I haven’t eaten?” He doesn’t need to ask how Jay can tell he’s had some beers. 

“I know you better than anyone,” Jay says, keeping his voice low in a way that makes this sound like seductive dirty talk. It excites Mike, anyway. “So. Goodnight. Go eat.”

“I will. Night.”

Mike hangs up and makes himself a quesadilla. He eats it at the kitchen counter, dipping it directly in the sour cream container and imagining the face Jay would make if he saw Mike doing so. He feels himself grinning between bites. Every little argument feels like progress, even when they’re just barely missing the landmines still buried under the surface. Mike can’t believe he brought up the hardcore scene stuff, considering that’s the fight that once lead to Jay saying the thing that felt like being thrown away for good, to Mike. But they’ve got to get there eventually, he thinks. There’s no getting around this, when there’s a porno to shoot. The only way past it is right through the center of all their old shit, good and bad. 

Mike tells himself it’ll be okay, because there’s more good old shit than bad, and because of how sweet Jay sounded on the phone, making promises to take care of him. Mike is old and humbled enough now to let him do that. Maybe.

*

In the morning, Mike picks Jay up as usual and is practically bouncing in his seat by the time they’re settled together in the editing suite at his place, elated by the feeling of having Jay back on his turf. Jay made him promise in the car that they’re actually going to get some work done today, because they’ve been slacking on their remastering work for the past two days of fooling around, and in just a few days more they’ll start their shoot.

Mike tries to focus on work but keeps eying Jay with needful looks, and Jay keeps snickering and shoving at his shoulder, which Mike can’t help but interpret as flirting. 

For the sake of their schedule, Mike decides to kill the mood by working on the final Amish kid and biker guy short. Otherwise he’ll have Jay on his back on the floor within the first hour of their supposed work day. He sighs after pulling up the old video and glances over at Jay, checking his expression.

“I was so ugly in these,” Jay says, trying to seem cool about it. He looks over at Mike, wrinkling his nose. “If I wasn’t a completist I’d say we could just leave these out.” 

“You were adorable,” Mike says. “Look at that fluffy hair.”

“Look at that fat ass.”

“Jay, your ass was never fat. Regrettably, because I’d have loved that.” 

“Okay, beer gut and love handles. Whatever, it works for the character.”

Mike shifts in his seat and tries not to think about the character too much, or how protective Mike eventually got about him, and how that played out between him and Jay.

“You of course look great,” Jay says, resentfully, looking at the screen. 

“The last days of my rugged good looks,” Mike says, not willing to deny that he does look pretty hot in these things, with his leather jacket and just enough heft to make him look extra dangerous, not fat. 

“You know you’re still handsome,” Jay says, giving him a side eye. “So don’t start with that shit.”

“You can call yourself ugly but I can’t? Okay, makes sense.”

“Well, I’m not anymore! And you never have been, extra weight just looks good on you. And don’t get me started on the hair. Or the teeth. You don’t know what it’s like, watching myself in these things.”

Jay turns back to the screen and makes a noise of disgust. Mike is hurt on past Jay’s behalf, also maybe on behalf of his unnamed Amish runaway character. 

“I could edit these without you if it’s really bothering you,” Mike says, starting to sweat. It’s such a delicate subject, all of this. 

“No, god, it’s not that serious,” Jay says, as if conversations like this weren’t part of the pretty fucking serious rift that parted them back then. “This was some of our best camera work, at least. When we actually sorta knew what we were doing.” 

Mike hums in agreement and resumes editing the short where the biker teaches the Amish kid to suck his dick without gagging. If the memories of making this series of videos weren’t so painful for him, he’d be hard just for watching Jay’s mouth open wide around his dick while he still manages to make his eyes look so innocent and sweet. Mike wants to say this is some of Jay’s best acting, whatever he feels about how he looked, but Jay will probably take it the wrong way. 

At four thirty they get a text from Gil saying he’s on his way to the studio. Mike doesn’t want to leave his apartment without getting off, so he reaches over to rub Jay’s thigh hopefully, giving him love eyes when he looks over. 

“You know what I was thinking last night?” Mike asks, still rubbing.

“What?”

“What a mindfuck it would be if your character ends up fucking mine in this movie.”

“Ugh, no,” Jay says, making a face. “That upsets the whole dynamic. People don’t want their expectations subverted in porn. I know you know this.”

“I do, and that’s why I’m not suggesting we actually do it in the film. But, when we’re workshopping penetration-- Maybe.”

“When we’re _workshopping penetration_?” Jay says in a near shout, and then he’s crumpling forward with laughter, his chair almost tipping over when he throws his head back. 

“What the fuck else would you call it?” Mike asks, though he can hear how stupid that sounded, now.

Jay just laughs harder. Mike grins and gives up on seducing Jay into something so complicated just now. He drops onto his knees and settles between Jay’s legs, staring up at him with an evil smirk. Jay is still bouncy with laughter, but he spreads his legs wider and sighs in approval when Mike reaches for his zipper. 

Mike moans around Jay’s dick when he takes him into his mouth, then shudders with a combination of satisfaction and embarrassment for how much he wants this. Two months ago he would have declared this entirely impossible: Jay in his apartment, spreading his legs at least for this and probably for whatever Mike wants, though neither of them has yet dared to suggest they fuck like they did in the old days or spend all night holding each other afterward. This is enough for now, still too good for Mike to fully accept when he’s not actively on his knees for it. Jay sighs and drops one hand to Mike’s head, pushing his fingers through Mike’s hair and making a little _mph_ sound under his breath when he inches his hips up to get more of himself into Mike’s mouth, his fingers clawing in against Mike’s scalp as he starts to get close, greedy. 

It’s so familiar: again, already, and Mike is proud of himself when Jay comes pretty fast in his mouth, because Mike remembers exactly how he likes it. 

Jay stays in the chair when Mike stands to take himself out, and Mike has to stifle a laugh when Jay puts his own dick away before so much as breathing on Mike’s, neatening himself up for the task at hand as Mike strokes himself. 

“Am I going to hold the camera while you do this on set?” Mike asks when he’s taken a handful of Jay’s hair and tipped his head back so that the warm afternoon light from the window hits his eyes just right. Mike is already imagining how he’ll frame these scenes, to make the audience see Jay like he does, like he’s glowing and irresistible, too good for anybody to really deserve.

“That’d be novel,” Jay says. He gives Mike’s cock a teasing lick. “Are we practicing lines?”

Mike shakes his head. He’s pulling Jay’s hair and planning to fuck his mouth, but he doesn’t have it in him to call Jay a slut or whatever else from the script right now. 

“I guess I’m practicing _my_ lines,” Jay says, and he takes Mike into his mouth. 

Mike tries not to worry about that comment. It’s not like Jay cares about being an actor, really, and his character does have some actual angst stuff that will let him develop the role beyond just sucking dick on camera, to make his eventual surrender to sucking as many dicks as he can that much hotter, but also because Mike wants people to actually like this guy, since his own character commits murder for him by the end of the film. 

When Mike comes in Jay’s mouth he unloads so much, after a full day spent thinking about this with Jay seated beside him, that he feels like he has to apologize for his output when he pulls Jay up out of the chair. Jay laughs in a soft, unsurprised way when Mike kisses him on the mouth. He opens for Mike’s tongue, letting the taste of what they just did for each other mingle together in a way that makes Mike moan.

“Now I want a nap,” Mike says, his forehead resting against Jay’s and his hips sort of swaying as he holds Jay against him, like some kind of demanted slow dance.

“We’re already going to be late,” Jay says, wiggling free. “Come on-- Do you have mouthwash?”

Mike snorts. He’s sincerely kinda hurt by the question. Jay just stares at him.

“Sure, prima donna,” Mike says. “But since when do you need mouthwash after a blow job?”

“Since we have a business meeting directly afterward, with a person who asks extremely invasive personal questions?” 

Jay gives Mike a look like he’s thinking about asking him what the fuck, then just heads for the hall bathroom and starts digging around in Mike’s cabinets until Mike shows him where the mouthwash is.

It’s trafficky on the drive to the studio, weeknight commute time, and Mike finds all the songs Jay picks on the radio irritating, but they’re both in pretty good spirits, complaining about Gil in the way they always have.

“How did we ever end up friends with him?” Mike asks. 

“He wouldn’t take no for an answer,” Jay says. 

It’s true, and Mike cannot recall a single moment of really valuing Gil’s opinion, but he was always offering it, and back when there was an extremely limited audience even willing to look at a few minutes of Mike’s work, at least Gil was invested in writing screeds full of feedback, even if Mike’s eyes skimmed over half of it when Gil’s feverishly self-important ‘reviews’ arrived via email. Most of the other people in the film program who were friendly with Mike really only wanted to talk about their own projects, but Gil would dissect Mike’s as if they were marquee events. He was the same way with Jay, though a little less charitable in his evaluations. Mike had always thought it was because Gil wanted to be Mike’s best friend and was secretly, seethingly jealous that Jay had claimed that role for all time, but once Mike and Jay started fucking Gil acted like some divine artistic prophecy had been realized. He was the only person, early on and for some years afterward, who called their stabs at making porn together a brilliant, truly punk rock endeavor that they were singularly good at. 

“Because you’re so in love with Jay,” Gil would say, either verbally or in his lengthy reviews via email. It had always kind of bugged Mike to hear that from him, though of course it was true and obvious enough. Nobody else seemed to nearly fetishize the fact that Mike was so into his tiny boyfriend that he’d derailed his career to make films about how hot it was when they fucked. 

Gil is of course already at the studio when they arrive, parked out front, leaning against his car and wearing mirrored sunglasses, pretending to be so absorbed in whatever business is taking place on his phone that he doesn’t look up when they pull into the lot.

“Is that a Ferrari?” Jay asks.

“I have no idea,” Mike says. He shares Jay’s disinterest in cars. “Just-- Ugh. We’ll go get beers after this, okay? He gets thirty minutes of our time, tops.” 

“I need to stop drinking beer, actually,” Jay says.

“What!” Mike says, with such distress that Jay laughs. 

“Just until the shoot’s over. It’ll make me bloated. Gonna take a break from drinking altogether, actually.”

“Oh,” Mike says, not sure why this feels like a bad omen. Jay can get grouchy when he’s denying himself things, for one. “Okay.”

“I wasn’t asking your permission.”

“I wasn’t-- Jesus christ, Jay! That’s not what I meant!”

“Sorry, just-- Don’t yell at me, he’s staring at us.”

Mike turns and tries not to raise his lip when he sees Gil hovering close to their car, grinning at them. Gil has his arms crossed over his chest with the smugly victorious energy of an FBI agent who just cornered a pair of criminals he’s been hunting for years, or maybe Mike is just being dramatic. 

“Well, you’re only an hour late!” Gil says when they get out of the car. “But don’t worry, I banked on it being at least a half hour, so I’ve only been waiting that long.”

He’s grinning while he says this, but Mike senses an edge of buried irritation, like who the hell do these sex workers think they are, in the presence of a studio exec and his rented Ferrari. When Gil goes for a hug, Mike is so taken off guard that he lets it happen. He shuffles in front of Jay so that Gil won’t try it with him, too. 

“C’mon in,” Mike says, digging out his keys. “Sorry to make you wait, but we’re really crunching trying to get all the remasters done before we start shooting. Lost track of time.”

“I’ll bet you did!” Gil says, and snickers at the look Jay gives him. “Mike said Simon’s back in town and ready to shoot?” he says, directing this at Jay.

“Yeah,” Jay says. “His scenes are scheduled for the end of our first week.” 

“Even the, ah. His final scene?”

“Yes,” Mike says. Simon has said that he’s looking forward to that one most. Mike doubts it, but it’s certainly true for Mike. 

“Under the Lake doesn’t love the ending as written,” Gil says, following them into the studio’s nondescript front lobby. “Not saying you have to change it, but--”

“They’ll love it when they see it,” Mike says. “It’s gonna be cathartic. Like an emotional orgasm, after you’ve beat off to the other stuff more literally.”

Which has always been their brand. Gil doesn’t protest the ending further or casually drop any other verbal script notes, just follows them around on the studio tour, remarking at maximum volume, over and over, on how much things look just like he remembers them.

“How many times were you even here?” Jay finally asks after Gil’s fourth or fifth exclamation. 

“Oh, quite a few, in the beginning, right?” 

“I seem to remember you mostly working on our website,” Jay says. Mike wants to warn him not to get combative with Gil’s bullshit, that it’s not worth it, but Jay has a point that Mike needs to stop trying to manage and shield him, so he keeps his mouth shut. “I mean, you were in California by then,” Jay says when Gil turns to him. 

“Maybe it’s just from watching the videos,” Gil says. “But this place feels very familiar to me.”

“Anyway,” Mike says when an awkward silence descends between the three of them. “As you can see, we’re all set to start shooting. I’ve had my guys working on sets while me and Jay do the remastering. We’ve got a wardrobe for Jay and everything, courtesy of Simon’s hand me downs.”

Mike isn’t sure why he said that. Jay gives him a look. 

“And you two are good?” Gil asks, glancing back and forth between them in a way that makes Mike think he definitely saw them nearly getting into an argument in the car. 

“We’re good,” Jay says, staring Gil down like a warning that he’s not going to get any more information about just how. “What are you in Chicago for, by the way?”

“Oh, this and that, boring marketing stuff, you guys have no idea how deadly dull my job is most of the time, I mean, it has its perks, sure, especially financially, but I really envy you two, still doing it all on your own, nothing compromised for the machine.” 

Gil proceeds to talk about himself for the next twenty minutes or so, continuing on until they’re back out in the parking lot and Mike and Jay are inching hopefully toward Mike’s car while Gil pursues them. 

“I know you’ll tell me I’m getting ahead of myself,” Gil says, “But I was thinking, for the premiere, we should do a red carpet livestream--”

“You’re getting way ahead of yourself,” Mike says. “Even for you.”

“Yeah, don’t jinx our shoot,” Jay says. 

Mike glances over at Jay, because he sounded sincere, and supposedly he’s the one going into this unafraid, with nothing but enthusiasm. 

“You’re right, you’re right!” Gil says, his hands clasped in front of him as if to beg their forgiveness. “I was just picturing it, the two of you all dressed up and polished, holding hands--”

“We have never and will never hold hands,” Jay says. 

“Yeah,” Mike says, though he’s probably grabbed Jay’s hands a thousand times over the years, in private. That doesn’t count. “And are you saying we’re not already polished?”

Mike stares like he’s legitimately offended until Gil gets the joke and laughs hoarsely. 

“Are you sure I can’t buy you guys dinner?” Gil asks.

“Nah,” Jay says. “Thanks, though.”

“We’ve got to get back to work,” Mike says. “Lots to do.”

“Oh sure, sure! Thanks for letting me have a look around. I’ll let the studio know that everything’s moving ahead without a hitch.”

That last statement makes Mike think that Gil wasn’t sent here to see the studio setup but to make sure Mike and Jay haven’t had an interpersonal implosion. Knowing Gil, he’s just as likely to have done so for his own benefit rather than Under the Lake’s. He’s always had a borderline creepy obsession with Mike and Jay’s relationship, and as Mike watches him finally driving away in that fucking Ferrari he feels suddenly, uncomfortably panicked about it, though he’s not sure exactly how this could end up hurting them in the long run. He’s never had the impression that Gil’s fascination with them is malicious. 

“So what do you think that was really about?” Mike asks when Gil is gone and he’s back in the car with Jay, headed downtown toward Simon’s place, because he’s not sure where else to take Jay if he doesn’t want to go out for a beer. 

“I dunno,” Jay says, sounding tired, or maybe disinterested. “I don’t think Gil is gay, but it’s like he wishes he was us. Probably more you than me, but. It’s weird, because if you’re not into the gay stuff, what about our lives do you envy, exactly?”

Mike makes a noise that doesn’t really indicate he’s offended by that. He’s still kind of fuming about it by the time they get to Simon’s place, but Jay seems oblivious, talking about the movie he watched with Simon the night before.

“Sorry, I guess that’s a spoiler,” he says at one point. 

“I don’t care,” Mike says, which is maybe as good as admitting he wasn’t really listening. Jay looks irritated when Mike puts the car in park and glances over at him. They’ve pulled up to the entrance to the building’s lobby as usual, inside the parking deck. “See you tomorrow?” Mike says, reaching over to settle his hand on Jay’s leg, to make sure it’s still allowed and also because the heat of Jay’s body through his clothes reliably calms Mike down. 

Why can’t I just have you back, Mike thinks when Jay stares at him like he’s weighing whether or not he should lodge some complaint. Mike understands Jay’s reasoning for not uprooting his entire life instantly after a few days of kissing and various other types of oral intimacy, but at their age, and after everything they’ve been through, Mike also isn’t really sure what he’s waiting for. If it’s just the end of their shoot, Mike can deal with that. But he feels like Jay is really only waiting to make a decision at that point, still just as open to moving to California with Simon as he is to staying here with Mike. 

“Why do you look at me like I’m eating your kidneys?” Jay asks. 

“Excuse me?”

“Never mind. C’mere.” 

Jay leans over to peck Mike on the lips and touch the back of his neck in a cautious little swipe of his fingers that makes Mike shiver. He wants to ask for more, but Jay is already leaning away, unbuckling his seatbelt and reaching for the door handle. 

“I know the last time we tried to make a movie together it ended traumatically,” Jay says, cheerfully enough to unnerve Mike a little, “But it’s going to be okay, Mike, really.”

“You’re the one who told me I’m gonna regret this,” Mike says. 

He winces once it’s out. He can’t stop thinking about Jay saying that right before they kissed, even if Jay’s next move was to flatten himself underneath Mike and hold on to him like he never wanted to let go.

Jay frowns and seems to do a mental scan of his recent remarks, then he makes a noise under his breath and stares at the dashboard, his hand still on the door handle.

“I meant about kissing me,” Jay says. “Not the movie.”

“Well. Okay. But you just kissed me, just now.”

“It’s an evolving situation,” Jay says, and then he has the nerve to get out of the car. 

He at least leans back in to give Mike a pleading look after he’s climbed out, eyebrows lifting. 

“I said that because you’re the only person I’ve ever had a real relationship with,” Jay says, his jaw tight. “And I fucked that up incredibly badly, so. Beware.” 

Mike shrugs, not sure how else to respond.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Jay says, with some condescension, as if Mike is a child who needs to be coddled.  
  
Which maybe isn’t entirely uncalled for. 

Mike drives home instead of stopping by Candy’s place. He knows she’d be up for drinks out on the town and that it would make him feel better, but only temporarily. The only thing that’s going to really fix what’s ailing him is having Jay back at his side in a way that feels lasting, and the only way to achieve that is to cannonball himself into this Gil-orchestrated situation where he’ll end up doing all kinds of things that will probably convince Jay to run screaming in the other direction, but Mike is not a quitter. He’s going to do everything he can to white knuckle it through this shoot without turning the gore-filled climax of the picture into an accurate metaphor for the production, which he keeps having nightmares about. 

At home he has a single beer with dinner and goes over the script, making little revisions and notes. When he sleeps he dreams that Jay shows up for work in the morning without being picked up by Mike, and that he finds three other Jays already in Mike’s apartment: a nerdy one with glasses who resembles Dex, a frat boy who looks like Nate from the Dude Bros videos, and the chubby unnamed Amish boy, who clings to Mike’s arm while the real Jay boggles and asks what the hell is going on.

“You replaced me?” Jay says in the dream, glaring at Mike as the other Jays huddle around him as if they’re scared of this original version. “With _them_?”

“You’re too hard on them,” Mike says. “They need me.”

“They’re not even real! I’m the real one!”

All it takes is him saying so for the three other Jays to vanish. Mike makes an aggrieved sound and turns in circles, frantic, searching for them. 

“What’d you do to them?” he asks, but when he turns back the real Jay is gone, too.

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise in the next chapter they will actually start shooting this movie :>>


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry again for the long wait between chapters, apparently this is one I'm just gonna fret over getting right overmuch, but I have everything more clearly planned for the end now as well. Also rl stuff is calming down more and more, knock on wood, so there should be more regular updates soon! Those who've given me comments on this story recently get a special I LOVE YOU because I really needed the nudges as this chapter finally wrapped up <3 <3
> 
> ANYWAY all that said I'm excited to post this chapter and to hear what people think!
> 
> **

Before the first day of shooting with the full crew, Mike brings Jay to the studio to get the outdoor closeups of him smoking in his borrowed businessman getup, also just to help with his own nerves about what’s going to happen tomorrow. Jay must be nervous, too, but he shrugs every time Mike asks him about it and then snaps that Mike’s constant needling is the only thing making him nervous. He’s quiet in the car on the way to the studio, sipping from the Starbucks that he let Mike pay for. It’s late afternoon, because they want to get these shots at dusk. They spent the day together editing the biker and Amish kid stuff, which has made them both tense and on edge. They didn’t touch each other like they sometimes do in front of Mike’s editing setup, even when they both got hard in their pants watching Mike fuck Jay hard over the seat of the motorcycle they’d borrowed from Jocelyn’s friend for those shoots. Mike feels like they’re both saving the energy that they left trapped in their jeans for something big. 

He wants to fuck at the studio, to have Jay all to himself there just once before they kick this thing off for real, like a ritual they can perform to protect them both during the upcoming shoot, blessing the environs with the invisible residue of their orgasms. He knows it’s extremely unprofessional and won’t suggest it, but if Jay asks he’ll tear his pants off in record time. 

“You’ve had a long day,” Mike says, directing Jay when they’ve got the shot set up outside the studio and the light is right, Jay looking into the distance and smoking a cigarette. “And you feel like a fuckup for smoking that, but you really need it. It’s the one good thing you’ve had all day. All warm and dangerous in your mouth.”

“Jesus,” Jay mutters, but he only laughs a little around the cigarette before he’s back in character again, inhaling while looking dismayed in the exact way Mike wants him to. 

Mike set up a tripod for the wide shot and is close in on Jay’s mouth with the camera he’s holding, wound up after they spent the past hour getting everything set up. Jay is sweating a little. It’s perfect. He looks fucking hot; Mike can’t get hard for their first attempts to shoot this thing, and he realizes now that they should have exchanged blow jobs before they left his place, to cut the tension. But maybe it’s better to maintain it, because Jay looks high strung and stressed out with an edge of guilty, and that’s the character. 

“This is getting me off a little,” Mike admits when he’s stopped recording with the handheld. The wide is still going. Maybe they can include this confession on the outtakes, ha ha.

“What?” Jay asks, looking like he doesn’t mind hearing this at all. “Me smoking?”

“Directing you again.”

“Ah.” Jay drags on the cigarette, staying in character because they probably get need more coverage. The light is so perfect. Jay looks too good, maybe, for this moment in the character’s life. “Me too,” Jay says, not looking at him. “Pick it up, okay? I want to do something, inside, after this.”

“Something,” Mike says, heart soaring. In this moment, just the two of them, making porn again and making it weird in the best way, his entire life feels solved. He has everything he needs. 

“I’ll tell you when we’re done here,” Jay says, giving Mike a look that hits him square in the chest, mischievous and sweet, too, like the look he gave Mike when he took his dick out that first time and started this whole thing off. “Action,” Jay prompts, and he laughs when Mike glares at him. 

“You’re not directing this,” Mike reminds him, hoisting the camera back to his shoulder. “Not even a little.” 

“Seriously? I always half-directed our stuff.” 

“Uhh,” Mike says, and then he decides not to get into an argument about that complete falsehood right now. “I know, but you’re supposed to be real frustrated in this one. The small man on the office totem poll. Even when you get reckless and start sucking off a construction worker and your fucking hypnotherapist, they’re just telling you what to do and you’re doing it. That’s the arc, until the big climax when all hell breaks loose.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Jay says, but he looks even better as Barney the repressed cockslut when he goes back to sucking on the cigarette, now with that perfect edge of being pissed off about how weak he is for certain things he craves. 

Mike gets some shots of Jay angrily stomping out the cigarette as if he’s made a resolution. He doesn’t let himself think about what that resolution is, for Jay’s character: a trip to the hypnotherapist, played by Simon, who will be on set tomorrow. Mike wanted to get it out of the way quick. Also, they have Simon’s schedule to consider. 

Jay follows Mike up to his office to watch the footage they just shot, the sunlight starting to fade for real outside. Leaning next to Jay at the computer and going over what they just filmed makes Mike giddy in a way that their editing work hasn’t so far. It’s the thrill of bringing something to life and having Jay right there, humming his approval, smiling to himself in an automatic way he probably doesn’t notice.

“You look so hot,” Mike blurts at one point, needing an excuse to touch him. 

“This shirt,” Jay says, adjusting the loosened tie that he still has on. “It was a good choice.”

Mike grunts, because that’s a compliment for Simon, who picked it.

“I’m glad we did this,” Jay says, straightening and staring down at Mike. He’d offered his lap, or to bring in another chair, but Jay waved him off and just bent at the waist to watch, his hand braced on Mike’s desk. “I feel more in character already,” he says, studying Mike’s face like he’s wondering if he can trust him with whatever else he has in mind. 

Mike spreads his legs and bounces his heel on the floor. He’s not gonna beg. 

“There’s one other thing,” Jay says, reaching up to pull at the knot on his tie. “Maybe we could do it downstairs, in the studio.” 

“What thing,” Mike asks. He’s already granted permission for whatever the hell Jay is going to ask for, but Jay doesn’t need to know that yet.

“I’ll show you,” Jay says, backing toward the door to Mike’s office. “Down there. C’mon.”

The lights are off down in the studio, and the sets look a little spooky, big shapes in the dark that are only illuminated by the red exit sign and the glow from the second floor. Mike leaves the door open so they can see their way down the stairs, and watches Jay move around the sets until he makes his way past all the stuff Dima and Rocky have helped Mike build for the shoot that starts tomorrow, toward a chair that’s haphazardly been pushed toward one of the chaotic supply shelves near the storage room. 

“I remember this chair,” Jay says, touching the backrest. 

Mike hums, not sure where this is going. It’s one they had in their old apartment, something they found at a thrift store when they were pawing through bins of old VHS tapes or looking for cheap costume pieces.

“Bunch of our shit ended up here,” Mike says, and, though he already feels bad about it, “For props.”

“Uh-huh,” Jay says. He has his back to Mike, and then he doesn’t. He looks-- Mike isn’t sure. Sort of fucked up in a horny way? “Come sit,” Jay says, still stroking the top of the chair’s backrest.

“What are you doin’ to me?” Mike asks, grinning like he’s not actually a little worried. 

Jay swallows and touches the tie, which he’s loosened enough to undo the top two buttons on Simon’s posh shirt. 

“Sit here,” Jay says, pointing to the chair. “I want you to spank the shit out of me here in the studio.”

“Oh fuck,” Mike says, already hurrying toward him. 

“Do it in character,” Jay says, holding up his hand to stop Mike from grabbing for him. 

“As-- The construction guy, Vince?”

“No.” Jay is red-faced, but he manages to hold Mike’s gaze. “As my-- Boss. My director. Studio exec. Whatever you want to be. You’re the person in charge here, at work. And I’m not.”

Even when Mike’s dick starts to fill out for the suggestion, he kind of wants to protest. Can’t they do this as them? But he never did spank Jay or even mark him up with love bites much as himself. He was always Sid, when they did things like this, or the asshole frat boy roommate, or the loner with the motorcycle who adopted a pet Amish runaway. Whether or not the cameras were rolling.

“Want me to roll a camera over?” Mike asks, trying not to show that he’s worried about this, vaguely, despite how hard he’s getting in his jeans. “Get this on film?”

“Why would I want that.”

“I mean just for the two of us, I mean-- I’m kidding.”

Jay rolls his eyes and deflates a little. Mike stalks toward him, having a hard time imagining getting into ass-spanking character when he just wants to kiss Jay stupid. 

“Okay, Jay,” Mike says, taking Jay’s chin in his hand, tilting his head back. “Do you want a safe word?”

“No.” 

“Still a little edgelord after all this time.”

“I’m not-- Mike, if I tell you to stop, just stop.”

“Mhmm. How hard do you want me--”

“Hard enough that I’ll feel it tomorrow, when we’re shooting. When I’m on my knees for your fucking movie.”

Mike frowns a little at the implication that it’s his movie alone, but maybe this is part of the getting into character as the all powerful director thing. Maybe Jay thinks he needs an ego boost.

The idea is infuriating enough to make Mike newly enthusiastic about tanning his hide.

“Get over here,” Mike says, dropping to a seat in the chair. Jay hesitates, staring at him uncertainly like he isn’t sure the game has started yet or not. “Across my lap, face down. You’ve got three seconds.”

Jay sucks in his breath and hurries into Mike’s hands, lets himself be pushed down hard over his thighs. His stomach is trembling when Mike tugs hard on the belt he borrowed from Simon, wondering if he should use it, too. Jay used to prefer his hands. 

“Ah, careful,” Jay says when Mike lifts Jay’s hips enough to get at his fly. He’s clumsy and mean about tearing it open, secretly hoping it will rip and that Jay will have to tell Simon why, pink-cheeked. They’re both breathing hard, and Mike isn’t careful, but the fabric holds as he tugs the pants down and groans. Jay isn’t wearing any underwear. 

“Slut,” Mike says, rubbing his hand over Jay’s exposed ass cheeks. He slaps him once, hard, but not even a fraction as hard as he can, and Jay will know that. He holds in the noise he almost made, but his thighs are already shaking. “Say it,” Mike says, and then hits him again. “Tell me.”

“I’m a slut,” Jay says, his voice only tight from the shock of pain. “Suh, sorry, I’m sorry--”

“No you’re fuckin’ not. Not yet.” 

Mike isn’t sure what his boss character is supposed to be punishing Jay for, and then he decides, somewhere between the fifth and sixth slam of his hand against Jay’s reddening ass cheeks, what Jay’s crime was. Jay’s breath is coming choppy now, and he’s hard against Mike’s leg. 

“Caught sucking dick at work,” Mike says, still spanking him. He grins at the way Jay goes newly tense, as if he’s really just been caught. “I should have you arrested.”

“Nuh, no, please--”

“Shut up. Sick little cocksucker. Couldn’t even wait to get off shift. Sucking off my best salesman under his desk. Distracting my workforce with your mouth. You think you’re sorry now? I’m gonna fuckin’ _make_ you sorry.”

Jay makes a sob-like sound and starts dragging his dick against Mike’s leg, probably without meaning to, and it feels good, so good, to be doing this shit again, even without the camera rolling. Mike never needed to record it. He would have done this for Jay alone, and whenever they did it in the privacy of their bedroom, unrecorded, it felt just as good for Mike. He knows that’s not the case for Jay, who once explained to Mike that he wasn’t getting off on the exhibitionism itself so much as the way people had to watch him belong to Mike and be good for him, do anything for him, and see that Mike owned him. He liked it when Mike held him from behind, fully dressed while Jay was naked in his lap, and leered at the camera with a threat in his eyes, like: come and get him, try it, see what happens.

“People must feel sorry for me,” Jay had said, on one of the few occasions he allowed Mike to make him talk about this, his eyes bright with psycho killer shit that scared Mike and made him hard as hell, too. “I want you to get off on showing them, too. You do, don’t you? I think you do.”

Mike did, sometimes. He’s not sure how it will feel tomorrow. He pauses to catch his breath and rubs his hand over Jay’s stinging, bright red ass cheeks. Jay is sniffling a little, wiping at his eyes. Mike should have used the tie to bind his hands behind his back. 

“Tell me again that you’re sorry,” Mike says, a shiver going down the backs of his legs when he thinks about the real apology he might ask for. “Let me see if it sounds like you mean it this time.”

“Sir,” Jay says. His voice is thick, so Mike is doing his job, really making his skin flame with the blows he’s been raining down, leaving enough of an impact to last till tomorrow, maybe longer. “I’m sorry, but, but--” 

“But what?” Mike grabs a handful of Jay’s hair, pulls so he’s got to arch his back a little. 

“I want, want to, please, could I--”

“Speak up, you sound like you’ve still got a cock in your mouth.” 

“Yes, that,” Jay says, trying to nod within Mike’s harsh grip on him. “I want, I could-- Suck you, please?”

“Oh fuck,” Mike says, with suppressed cruel laughter. “I should have known.” 

“Please, sir--”

“Trying to get out of a spanking by offering to put that cunt of a mouth on my cock?”

Jay groans, and Mike is impressed with himself, too, sweating under his clothes. He’s so hard, and every shaky exhale Jay pushes out is teasing his trapped erection, making him crazy. 

“Like I don’t know you’ll get off on it,” Mike says. He drops Jay’s head and pets his hair, condescending and soothing at the same time, telling him sincerely that he’s doing so well. “Sucking cock isn’t a punishment for sluts like you. It’s a reward.”

“Sir,” Jay wibbles out, not denying this. 

“You’re lucky your worthless ass gets my dick hard,” Mike says, shoving Jay off his lap. He winces after he has, regretting it a little, because Jay is unsteady even on his hands and knees, taken by surprise and half sprawled on the floor, but when he scrambles to get between Mike’s legs again there’s nothing but lust blown worship in his eyes. Mike strokes Jay’s burning face with one hand while he unzips his jeans with the other, taking himself out. “Now get it wet,” he says, his chest heaving at he stares down at Jay, wishing he had the camera so he could save this just for them, so Jay could see how he looks right now, later, when he’s got his brain back.

Mike has had lots of blow jobs from Jay in recent weeks, but doing this at the studio feels different, and he knows that’s why Jay asked for it here. He pets Jay’s hair and stares down at him, unsmiling, trying not to make much noise even when Jay uses all the dirty tricks he knows Mike loves. He touches Jay’s hot cheek, then reaches down for the tie, holding the end of it like a leash and using it to guide Jay’s movements while his mouth is stuffed with Mike’s cock, bright pink lips straining around the width of it, the shaft all shiny with Jay’s spit. Mike has been wanting this all day, but something about being here, with Jay between his legs and kneeling on the floor of the building Mike owns makes him last and last, and he can hear Jay getting tired and sore, his throat probably aching after Mike has slowly but unrelentingly fucked his face for a while. Jay’s eyes look so sweet the whole time, shining up at Mike’s face, telling him thank you, oh, thank you, even when it hurts. 

Mike has never loved anyone or anything even close to how much he loves Jay. He feels his orgasm building at the base of his spine and he’s almost afraid to unload on Jay, like how much this stupid act of pleasing him secretly means to Mike is going to make the natural conclusion dangerous to swallow down. Still, he doesn’t want to pull out and spray on Jay’s face, even for the delicious risk of getting some on Simon’s clothes. He wants to stay inside, always, as long as he can, and he feel Jay wanting him there, too. 

“Now you’re being good for me,” Mike says, his voice all torn up because he’s close to coming, and he’s sure Jay will know it, that he’s felt Mike swell just a bit thicker between his puffy lips, on his tired little tongue. Mike moans and thumbs at Jay’s burning ears, tickling him there in the way that makes him shiver. With Mike’s cock nudging at the back of his throat, it also makes him cough a little. “Almost there,” Mike says, pushing his fingers up into Jay’s sweaty hair. “Look at you, mph, good boy. Employee of the fucking month. Suck that cock like you’re being paid for it.” He maybe shouldn’t continue but god he’s so close, it just comes out, “Suck me like it’s your job, slut.” 

Mike comes with a groan and is only half emptied into Jay’s mouth before he starts to feel guilty for what he said, but Jay is swallowing him down like he can’t get enough, eyes closed, so maybe it’s fine. 

“Fuck,” Mike says, rubbing at his face with his hand, feeling how hot he is only now that he’s come, stuck to the chair, the back of his t-shirt plastered to his skin. “C’mere,” he says, reaching for Jay when he sits back on his heels and catches his breath, wiping at his mouth. Jay is rock hard, Simon’s now rumpled pants bunched around his thighs.

“Nuh uh,” Jay says, moving out of reach when Mike surges forward to grab for him. “I, ah. I’m gonna go home hard.”

“What?” Mike says, clasping his fingers to beckon Jay forward, greedy to get him off and kiss his hot, cock-wrecked mouth. “Don’t be dumb, I want--”

“I know what you want.” Jay rises to his feet slowly and pulls up his pants, wincing when he zips them over his erection. “This is what I want. To help me get in character.”

“Jays, jesus, I’m--”

“He’s supposed to be frustrated, repressed. This’ll help Mike, trust me.”

Mike’s mouth moves stupidly. He wants to apologize for saying sucking cock is Jay’s job, even in character, in the heat of the moment. Jay doesn’t look upset, just aroused and determined, fixing the tie and tucking in his shirt, breathing in long exhales through his nose.

“You did always like that edging shit,” Mike says, tucking his own dick away. “Is that what this is?”

“I have a plan,” Jay says, eyes twinkling. “For how to get the most out of this. Professionally and personally.”

“Personally.” 

“Yeah.” Jay sighs and tries to fix his hair. “I want to sorta, uh. Deny myself, while we’re shooting the movie. Except for rehearsal, because I do think we should fuck once, off camera, before that scene. But, like. I want having you back for real to be my reward at the end of this. For a job well done.”

Mike holds in the impulse to say he’s insane. He stands, feeling shaky, wanting to at least be allowed to hug Jay before they leave.

“Whatever you want,” Mike says, a little stiffly. 

“Good-- Yes. Thank you. Let’s go, okay?”

“Go?”

“Like, drive me to Simon’s so I can take a cold shower. Please.”

The softness of the ‘please’ and that sweet look in Jay’s eyes will make Mike give him anything, so he gets what he asked for. Mike is half hard again by the time they get to the city, just for Jay’s soft self-deprivation noises from the passenger seat while he claws his fingers into his legs and lets his own dick go soft, untended. 

“Are you okay?” Mike blurts when they’re parked in the garage, near the inside lobby door that Mike has started to have nightmares about, because it’s like this creature that swallows Jay up all the time, taking him away. “I mean,” he says, still sweating, distressed by the mildness of Jay’s expression. “I didn’t go, uh, too far, saying that shit--”

“Oh god,” Jay says, and he rolls his eyes, snickers. “How am I ever gonna convince you I’m not some bruised little flower who needs your apologies?”

“Well. You might have bruises, actually. In the literal sense. But, I mean--”

“Mike, I’m fine. Jesus.” Jay leans over to give him a quick, maybe angry peck on the cheek, then he’s opening the passenger side door. “I know your ultimate fantasy is that I come to you crying and asking you to rescue me from myself, but--”

“Oh, fuck off!”

“--But that ain’t me, and if you could get your head around the fact that you actually like me like this we’d both have a better time.” 

Mike scowls, waiting for him to leave. Jay holds his gaze, looking uncertain. 

“You were perfect today,” Jay says.

“That’s my line,” Mike mutters.

Jay laughs a little and gets out, saying Simon will bring him to the studio tomorrow. 

“You can text me tonight if you can’t sleep,” Jay says, leaning in the door after he’s climbed out. “I’m here for you, Mike.”

Mike just nods, not wanting to wreck the sentiment by saying, yeah, then why are you always fuckin’ walking away?

*

Hours later, at home alone and too keyed up to even want to get drunk, Mike texts Candy.

_Hey neighbor can I borrow a cup of xanax_

He expects her to brush him off, but within the hour she’s knocking on his door, bearing a care package of pills (five of them, which he finds a little insulting, as if he’ll continue to need them to get to sleep after he’s over the biggest hurdle of the first real day of shooting), cold fried chicken and coffee cake with caramel drizzle.

“I’ve been going through a cooking phase,” she says, watching Mike tear into a piece of chicken over the kitchen counter. “These are all leftovers. I’m gaining weight, but it’s fun.”

“Story of my life,” Mike says, chewing. 

Candy makes a face like she’s going to debate how much fun Mike generally has, then seems to decide it’s not worth it. She goes to the fridge and gets herself a beer. 

“This apartment is really sad,” she says after she’s taken a sip, leaning back against the counter opposite the one where Mike is devouring chicken like an animal. It’s good, and he didn’t realize he had an appetite until he smelled it. 

“Yeah, well, enjoy the far nicer one that I also pay for,” Mike says. 

“Uh-huh. You’re moody.”

“Sorry. I said something shitty to Jay earlier, too. He pretended not to care, but--”

Candy sighs laboriously and gulps from the beer, her head tilted back. 

“No, continue,” she says after swallowing, doing a rolling hand motion in Mike’s direction when he just stands there nibbling at the chicken sheepishly. “It’s not like I didn’t know I’d hear all about Jay if I came over. I’m curious, I’ll admit. How’s it-- Going? Looking? Feeling, I guess?”

Mike fidgets in place, wanting to tell her about the spanking thing. She’s good at interpreting weirdness in ways that Mike misses due to being too earnest and greedy for love signals. 

“You actually seem less fucked up than I expected,” Candy says, before Mike can decide whether or not to divulge. “Which is worrying.”

“Is it? Huh.”

“Oh, shut up. You gonna make it through tomorrow?”

“We’re shooting some of Simon’s stuff tomorrow,” Mike says, which isn’t really an answer. 

Candy smirks. “You’re so funny,” she says.

“Am I. Why’s that.”

“Nnnh, I’d rather let you find out for yourself how this is actually gonna go.”

“Uhh, what? One second you’re worried about how normal I seem, and then it’s straight on into mocking me and withholding intel?”

“So? You’re the one who told me I’m a whim personified.” 

“Okay, let’s not--”

“You meant it as a compliment. Sorta. And I’m flattered that you think I have ‘intel.’ I’ll just put it this way-- I’ve seen Simon’s stuff, and I’ve heard about what he was like in college. I don’t know him, but I’m pretty sure he’s shaking in his boots like eighty times harder than you are, this evening.”

Mike considers this, trying to judge her angle for making fun of him, but she looks sincerely like she wants to build him up, whether she believes what she’s saying or not. She did bring him to-the-door drugs, so she must care. 

“I mean there’s no way his dick’s as big as yours,” she says, lifting one shoulder. “For one.”

“That’s true.” 

Now Mike is grinning. Maybe he won’t need the Xanax after all. Feels good to have it on hand, though, just in case. 

Candy splits a second beer with him and then says she’s got to drive home before she gets tipsy. He kisses her goodbye, on the cheek but as close to the corner of her lips as he can get without making it weird. She smirks like it was a little weird anyway, and like he’s ridiculous but not in a bad way. 

“I could come be your script girl, for moral support,” she offers as she’s backing down the hallway outside his place.

“If it comes to that, I’ll give you a call.” 

Mike thinks of how fake cool Jay would act around her while wanting to scratch her eyes out. Or maybe Mike is projecting, just wishing that were true. Either way, he’s not dumb enough to invite his ex-wife anywhere near the set. This thing is a powder keg of potential go-wrongs as it is.

He’s feeling pretty okay as he gets ready for bed, however, and decides to save the Xanax for further down the line on the production, should the waters get rougher. He ignores a text from Gil wishing him luck tomorrow and sends one to Jay, trying to devise a way to gauge Simon’s level of nervousness without being obvious about it. 

_How’s it going at the penthouse_ , he sends.

Jay takes a while to respond, which is annoying, until his message comes and Mike feels sweet toward him again:

_Sorry I was in the shower. All’s fine here_

_did you beat off in the shower thinking about what I did to you earlier_

Mike can’t resist. Only half a beer into the evening and he feels floaty. Candy’s suggestion that Simon is sweating about having a smaller dick sent him just right. She’s so good at making him feel like a king when he least deserves it. 

_Actually no_ , Jay responds. _saving it up for my scenes tomorrow_

 _oh god_ , Mike responds, groaning. _how is this even hotter when we’re not living together_

_this?_

_plotting for the shoot. You know?_

He hopes Jay knows. He’s got to, if he’s asking to be spanked and then going without touching himself for the sake of their art.

_I don’t know if it’s hotter this way but it’s definitely a different kind of hot, yeah_

Mike puzzles over how to interpret this. He considers telling Jay he misses him, but he’s overplayed that line already. 

_is it past Simon’s bedtime_ , he sends, testing to see what he can get away with.

 _he’s in his bedroom_ , Jay replies. _not sure if he’s sleeping_

_is he nervous_

_Probably. Please be nice to him. He’s perfect for the role._

Mike doesn’t like this suddenly professional use of proper grammar. He grunts and eyes the little ziplock bag of Xanax on the nightstand. He feels too tired to really need it, and above all ready to get to tomorrow morning, as if it’s some kind of perverse Christmas and he’s going to find out if he got a mountain of gifts or a lump of coal. As if tomorrow won’t be just the beginning of finding out how this is ultimately gonna go.

 _I’ll be nice_ , Mike sends. _as long as he doesn’t ruin my takes by jizzing all over you as soon as you’re on your knees for him_

Jay’s response takes a few minutes to arrive.

_Mike. Please. I’m trying not to beat off. Don’t make me think about you berating another man for disobeying your orders about how to use his cock_

_holy shit jay_

_ughhh I gotta go watch the Muppet movie or something to calm down, BYE_

Mike is beaming down at the phone, wanting to dance it around the room like an accomplice. He would press his luck by taunting Jay and sending more texts to get him hot and bothered, but tomorrow is too important. He puts his phone away and jerks off to the thought of other men crying for Jay while Mike fucks him on camera, hands everywhere, leaving possessive bruises while Jay moans for him and laughs under his breath, along with Mike, at everyone in the world who isn’t lucky enough to be one of them.

*

Mike may be unable to bring Jay to the shoot on their first day, but he can least get him Starbucks. He gets one for Dima and Rocky, too, and a vile-looking matcha frappuccino for his cameraman on duty for the day, because for some reason it’s the guy’s favorite. He considers getting nothing for Simon, ‘cause he doesn’t know what Simon’s drink is and doesn’t want to ruin the surprise for Jay by asking, then just guesses a cappuccino. For himself, Mike gets the same thing he ordered for Jay, the same thing Jay always gets, like it’s a potion that will protect them both if they drink it: regular coffee, hot, no milk or sugar. If Jay won’t let himself have them, neither will Mike.

He’s somewhat of a mess by the time he pulls up to the studio, but ignores this and is doing some forced cheerful whistling as he carries the coffee trays inside and starts delivering them. Jay and Simon haven’t arrived yet, but Mike has a text from Jay saying they’re on their way. As if he thinks Mike will worry Simon is in the process of whisking him away from all of this at the last moment. 

“It’s not hot anymore,” Mike says when Jay and Simon show up and he hands them their coffees. 

“Lukewarm’s fine,” Jay says, and he gulps from his in a way that Mike wants to interpret as trusting. Jay looks mildly freaked out and like he’s determined to pretend he’s not, or maybe Mike is imagining things. Unlike Simon, Jay is already dressed in his costume for the shoot, with the suit jacket draped over his arm and his hair gel-perked into its perfect swoop. 

“Wow,” Simon says, lingering at Jay’s side and eying the set. He hasn’t thanked Mike for the coffee, which is out of character; he’s usually tripping over himself trying to be so polite, especially to Mike. When Mike catches Simon’s spinny gaze he knows Candy was right. Simon is anxious as fuck, maybe surprised that they called his bluff by actually bringing him this far. “That’s my office?” Simon asks, pointing to the hypnotherapy set where he’ll do his scenes with Jay. 

“Yep,” Mike says. “Does it meet your approval, doctor?”

Nobody laughs, and Mike feels stupid for trying to make a joke so early in the morning, like even a good joke would have lessened the tension at this point. Dima and Rocky are watching them from the other side of the room, hanging back. Mike keeps hearing Dima snicker, or maybe that’s the studio ghost, floating up near the ceiling somewhere. 

“So you both have the shoot schedule,” Mike says to Jay and Simon, annoyed that they seem not to have brought the printed out copies that he made for them. He supposes they might have it on their phones, or just be relying on him to tell them what to do from here on. He should be glad if that’s the case, and has the sense that he will be, once he makes himself get started. He’s just got to rip the bandaid off. “We’re gonna shoot mostly in order today, with the plot driving scenes in the hypnosis office before lunch and then two blow job ones after, if we’re not running behind by then.”

He gives Jay a queasy look. Jay is chugging coffee. Simon has both hands in the pockets of his jeans. 

“Do you guys need to rehearse?” Mike asks. 

“No,” Jay says, and Mike can smell the coffee on his breath, wants to take him upstairs and kiss him good morning before they give themselves over to their work. “We’ve rehearsed already-- The dialogue,” he adds quickly. 

“I knew what you meant,” Mike says. He glances at Simon, who meets his eyes with a kind of cautious hesitation that puffs Mike up a little. “You good?” he asks.

“Are they gonna be on set during the afternoon stuff?” Simon asks, pointing to Dima and Rocky, who are leering in a non-helpful way from a distance. 

“I can do it with just the camera operator,” Mike says. “But I’d rather keep at least one of them around to help with audio capture. It’s-- Not a dealbreaker, though, if you need me to make it a closed set.”

Simon looks at Jay, who shrugs. 

“You won’t even notice they’re there,” Jay says. 

“I have a guy I can call to do your part if you want to bail,” Mike says, almost at the same time. 

Jay frowns, and Simon looks confused, then a little insulted.

“I’m fine,” he says. “Just throw me in the deep end. I’m ready.”

Mike withholds the urge to roll his eyes at that obvious lie and gives Jay another look, but Jay is focused on Simon.

“You don’t have to do this for me,” Jay says, so softly that Mike’s stomach flips, because since when does Jay have a soft voice for anyone but him? “You’ve done enough.” 

“It’s not entirely for you.” Simon pokes Jay at the center of his chest and grins. “This is-- I want to be a part of this, it’s interesting. Don’t worry. I’m just remembering what it’s like to not be in charge of a set.”

They both look to Mike as if to ask him to go ahead and be the one in charge now, and he takes it like a baton they’ve passed to him after the first hobbling leg of this marathon, turning to tell his guys to set up for scene one, take one. 

Simon puts on his costume while they get everything ready on set. Jay hovers near Mike’s elbow, looking kind of dazed. 

“You get any sleep last night?” Mike asks. 

“Yeah,” Jay says, and he cuts Mike a look like the question was rude. “I’m getting into character, okay? Don’t talk to me like I’m me.” 

“Jesus, fine. I want you to be kind of angry in this first scene, like we talked about. You’re annoyed that this guy claims he can help you, but you’re desperate enough to try it.”

“Right,” Jay says. He’s watching Simon emerge from the men’s room, now in slacks and a collar shirt with the sleeves rolled up halfway, a sweater vest pulled over it. “He’s freaking out,” Jay says, turning to whisper this so only Mike will hear. “You have to help me calm him down.” 

“I’m-- How? Never mind, I will. Simon!” Mike beckons him over, keeping his expression hard, like Simon is some untested actor who needs to prove himself, because he kinda is. “You ready for places?”

“Uh-huh,” Simon says, tugging on the bottom of his sweater vest. “Ready when you guys are.”

“Ready to make history, boss,” Dima says, and he gives Mike a smart ass grin from the sidelines, where he’s dressed in the gym clothes that he’ll wear during his first scene with Jay, if they have time to shoot it today. 

“Yeah, history,” Mike mutters, looking at Jay. He’s staring into space. Mike remembers him getting like this before shoots when they were younger, and then they’d start rolling and he would become someone else: more vulnerable, hesitant, and helplessly in Mike’s thrall than the real Jay ever was. 

Simon takes his place in the armchair where his doctor character will be seated when the first scene starts. Jay walks over to stand behind the prop door that he’ll enter through. Rocky hoists the boom mike, and Mike lifts the clapperboard. 

“Here we go,” he says when the cameras are rolling. “This is Mindfuck, scene one, take one-- Action.” 

He winces a little at the stupid working title, which Jay likes more than he does. Simon is already doing character business in the chair, pretending to read through his hapless new client’s file. As soon as Jay enters with the suit jacket on, Mike wants it off of him and cuts. 

“Save that for the scenes when you’re heading to work,” he says, which are the ones when Jay stops by the construction site on the way there, enticed to cross the fence line and suck Mike’s character’s cock on his knees in the sawdust. “He’s off work now, looks too formal.”

Jay doesn’t question the choice. He takes the suit jacket off, drapes it over the chair where Mike spanked the hell out of his ass here just yesterday, and resets to enter the scene.

“Barney?” Simon says when they’re rolling again, and he stands to shake Jay’s hand, which is idiotic. Mike cuts again, not concealing that he’s annoyed. They both look at him.

“Don’t fucking stand up, man,” Mike says. “You’re a predator, you’re about to fuck with this guy’s head, you’re not getting out of your goddamn seat for him.”

“Oh-- Right, sorry.” 

Simon resets, and Mike can see that being barked at has helped him. He’s focused when they’re rolling again, and actually manages to make his friendly eyes look kind of mean.

“So,” Simon says when Jay is seated across from him on the prim red couch that Mike picked out at an antique store, just for this. “You’re here because you want to quit smoking.”

“Yeah,” Jay says. His posture is perfect, without a single direction from Mike: tense and perched just barely on the very edge of the sofa cushion, maybe because his ass is sore from yesterday’s festivities. He’s leaning slightly toward Simon like he’s ready to spring away from him in case of attack, hands clawed over his knees. His cheeks are just flushed enough. “Kinda feel like this might be bullshit, though,” he says.

It’s not the exact line, but it’s better, because of the ‘kinda,’ because Jay’s guy already wants to submit to letting this stranger take control, even while he tells himself otherwise. 

Mike wants to say cut like he did in the old days, when it was just the two of them, to wreck a good scene just so he can run into frame and tackle Jay for being perfect. His heart is slamming. Drinking coffee was a dumb move, but he can’t take it back now. 

The hypnotism stuff is tedious, because Jay is acting braindead while Simon repeats the phrases that send him into a trance, but they’ve got to get through it, and Simon is both patient and good at remembering his lines, especially after a few more barked criticisms from Mike. Jay seems kinda gone even between takes, keeping up the mood of his guy going under deeper and deeper while Simon’s voice manipulates him. Simon was a perfect choice, Mike has to admit; his friendliness has always had a menacing quality. It’s unnerving, because Mike prefers scenes where Jay’s characters get more and more into it despite having their full mental capabilities. He’s half analyzing their choice to do this storyline for personal reasons that he shouldn’t be thinking about right now: like Jay only agreed to be someone else, for Mike, if the person he turns into doesn’t know why he’s doing it. 

“How are you feeling?” Simon asks when the doctor has snapped Jay out of it, the seeds of cock addiction planted in his scrambled brain. 

“It’s-- Weird,” Jay says, fidgeting. He’d gradually slumped back against the couch during the hypnotism scenes and is sitting forward again now, but in the center of the cushion, shoulders slumped. “I feel-- I dunno. Not like smoking.”

“Well, that’s a start.” 

“What’d you do to me?” Jay asks, on edge, and that’s also not in the script, but Mike hangs back and waits to see where he’s going with this. 

“I brought you to a surrendered place and told you that you don’t need to smoke, that you don’t even want to. That the very idea repulses you, now.”

What he actually told Jay’s character was to replace the pleasure he gets from sucking on a cigarette with the need to have a big dick in his mouth: satisfying him, making him feel good, bringing him almost to orgasm just by stuffing his hungry mouth. 

“Huh,” Jay says, crossing his arms tight over his chest like he knows something’s off, that he needs to guard himself. “That’s it?”

“We’ll have another session next week to make sure the effects last. See if you can get through the week without a cigarette.”

“That would have sounded impossible an hour ago,” Jay says, still looking more concerned than relieved. “But now-- Yeah. I think I can.”

“Great. You did very well.” Simon looks at his watch. “And, like you say, it’s been an hour.”

“Feels like I just got here,” Jay says, standing slowly, like he’s not ready to leave. He’s looking at Simon’s crotch. Simon is not a natural man-spreader, but he’s doing it effectively enough, under Mike’s direction. 

“That’s how hypnosis works,” Simon says. “You should feel lighter, and relaxed, at least for the rest of the evening.”

Jay nods to himself and takes a few steps toward the door. 

“Just let yourself feel good about this,” Simon says. “You’ve made the first move toward improving your health.” 

Mike gets a shot of Jay leaving the office, though he probably won’t include it when he edits this, then cuts. He shouts at Dima to get Simon some water and goes to check on Jay, who is pacing around near what Mike now has to think of as the spanking chair. 

“That was really good,” Mike says, reaching out to squeeze Jay’s arm. Jay lets him, but makes a face like he’s not sure he agrees. 

“I don’t know,” he says. “I felt stiff during the hypnosis stuff. Like, it should have been hotter, me listening to him saying all that shit about sucking cock.” 

“I got push ins on your face when you were licking your lips, it’ll be plenty hot. Next scene on this set is the one after you’ve sucked your first dick. The guy at the gym.”

“I know, Mike.”

“You need a break?”

“No. Ask Simon if he needs one. I’m gonna change.” 

Mike doesn’t point out that the only costume change required here is for Jay to put on a different tie and make the shirt look a little more rumpled. He watches Jay disappear into the men’s room with the new tie and turns back to the set. 

“Man,” Simon says when Mike approaches him. “I forgot how fun it is to play evil.”

Mike grunts and nods. He’s looking forward to slipping into character himself, when they start shooting his scenes later this week. His construction worker is a pitiless asshole who lives to wreck Jay’s perfectly styled hair while fucking his face. 

“Any notes?” Simon asks.

“Be more smug in this next scene. It just amuses you that he’s catching on. You’re not worried at all. You know he’s no match for you.”

There’s a thing that happens to Mike when he’s directing something and it’s actually going well that’s not unlike arousal; he doesn’t actually get hard, but his whole body tightens with a sense of inevitable potential, like he’s just got to keep going without stopping or overthinking and he’ll get what he wants. Then it’ll be over, too soon, and he’ll be left with the clean-up, the editing process usually revealing that it wasn’t as good as he thought, but when he’s in this zone he doesn’t give a fuck and just barrels ahead. 

The second scene with Jay and Simon in the hypnotherapist office is like this, and Mike’s mouth is dry from the sensation that they’re both extensions of him: his fucked up writing and his will, and the best part is that Jay is his appendage in a way that Simon could never be, because it’s familiar and organic and it’s like Mike is in the scene, too, both screaming mad like Jay’s character, for being tricked, and smugly enjoying it from the doctor’s chair, because what’s he going to do about it now? 

What Jay’s character is going to do about it: get manipulated into sucking the doctor’s cock right there in his office. But they break for lunch first. 

Mike has Rocky go to the sub shop across the street with their order, which is tradition on the first day of a shoot. He offers beers and everyone declines. Jay sits beside him upstairs in the windowless kitchen, in his undershirt, the collar shirt left downstairs with the tie and double napkins spread across his trousers to protect them while he eats. He’s having turkey on wheat, no mayo or cheese or even onions. 

Everybody is in a good mood, even Simon, because the scenes are going well and there’s a kind of energy building, real shit developing between the characters, that peerlessly satisfying sensation that they’re bringing something to life bit by bit. Simon chatters about his latest project while everyone eats, and Dima asks him invasive questions about celebrities he’s worked with. Mike doesn’t try to put a stop to it. He knocks his knee against Jay’s under the table at one point, and lets Jay eat half his pickle. 

“So you have not done this before?” Dima says to Simon. “Not even softcore?”

“Not since some experimental film I did in college,” Simon says. “Which was pornographic in a different way.”

“What way?”

“Uhh, ego driven? Self important?”

Dima gives Mike a look like he’s trying to judge his mood, clearly suppressing a smile. He points at Jay, then back at Simon.

“But you two have done this?” he says. “In private?”

Jay gives Mike an accusing stare, like suddenly this was supposed to be a secret. Mike wishes he had another pickle to offer as penance. 

“A while back,” Simon says, shifting through his sandwich garbage like he’s tired of humoring this guy. 

“Okay, well, is like riding a bike.”

“Okay,” Mike says, clapping his hands together while Dima laughs at his own joke. Rocky looks furious, like later he’s going to apologize to Mike for this, because he’s the one Mike told about Jay and Simon having fooled around in the past, and what the hell did he think would happen when he told Dima? “Ten minutes to digest, then we’ll reset downstairs. Jay, c’mere for a second.” 

Mike is panicked for a moment that Jay won’t follow him and this whole thing will start falling apart already, but when he glances behind him on the way out of the kitchen Jay is trailing him, still with a pissed off look on his face. Mike ushers him into his office and shuts the door behind them.

“That guy is obnoxious as fuck,” Jay says. 

“I know. We can push his scene to tomorrow, or I can sub in Rocky--”

“No, it’s good. I can use it, being annoyed by him. What’s wrong?”

“What’s-- What?”

“Why’d you call me in here?” Jay crosses his arms over his chest. “I hope you’re not freaking out.”

“Do I look like I’m freaking out? I just wanted to talk to you about what’s going on in your character’s head in the next few scenes.”

As if they’re just any scenes and not Jay’s return to sucking dick on camera after a long hiatus-- At least, as far as Mike knows. He may have done it for a more private audience, over the years. Mike likes to think not, even if it makes him less prepared for this. 

“What’s going through his head is he needs to suck dick because it hurts not to,” Jay says. “Like trying not to scratch an itch. And he’s confused but he’s all in once he gets the chance. If there’s some nuance I’m missing here, please, yeah, tell me.”

Mike takes Jay by the shoulders and looks down into his eyes. Jay seems surprised, then his eyes soften, and he lets Mike slide his hands down, lets him knead his biceps a little. 

“I also wanted to tell you that you’re doing awesome so far,” Mike says. 

“I know I am.” Jay snickers and only resists a little when Mike pecks him on the lips once, twice. “Unprofessional,” he says, with his mouth still pressed to Mike’s, eyes floating shut.

“You look so good,” Mike says, dangerously close to getting hard just for this, because Jay smells incredible, too, even with his turkey and pickle breath. “Heartbreaker. That’s my other note. Remember, deep down, even while they think they’re degrading you, they’re all in love with you. They’re gonna dream about you tonight. Not just your mouth, they already had that. They’re gonna wonder who takes care of you, protects you, why you’re letting them use you, if you’d let them fix what they think is wrong with you. But they can’t, ‘cause there’s nothing wrong at all, ‘cause you’re perfect.” 

“Mhmm,” Jay says, his gaze lowered to Mike’s chest. “Okay, Mike. Whatever you say.” 

“Don’t give me a boner.” 

“I-- What?” Jay snaps his eyes to meet Mike’s and looks genuinely annoyed. “I’m not-- Just, ugh, let’s go, before your guy says any more weird shit to Simon.” 

Mike follows Jay back downstairs, still thinking about what he just told him, which was spontaneous but deeply true, like all their best stuff. He watches Jay put the button-up shirt on again, and helps him with his tie. Jay is breathing in agitated little huffs, getting himself worked up for the next scene. They cut when he was shouting at the doctor character, accusing him of malpractice, right before he realizes he’s really come there because he wants to suck some dick, and that the hypnotist who teased the idea out of his suppressed brain has one for sucking. Mike loosens the tie and rumples Jay’s collar, because he’s coming from a scene they haven’t shot yet, where he finds himself on his knees in the men’s locker room at his gym, sucking Dima’s unnamed gym rat character’s cock.

“Ready?” Mike asks, under his breath, out of earshot of the others. 

Jay nods. He seems calm, and his eyes are bright, like he wants Mike to dare him to jump over this cliff with him, holding his hand all the way down. 

I love you, Mike thinks, unblinking. He’s not dumb enough to say it out loud, not now, but the way Jay’s eyebrows flinch together a little makes Mike feel like he heard it anyway. 

“I missed this more than I realized,” Jay says. 

“This,” Mike says, afraid to venture a guess. 

“You directing me. The way you get. And how you let me-- How you, just. Let me.” 

Mike has to kiss him, just absolutely has to, but he also can’t, not yet, because everyone is looking at them and this is delicate enough already. He nods, takes a deep breath, and they walk back over to the set together. 

When the cameras are rolling again they pick up where they left off, which is the part where the evil Dr. Lombard asks Barney the now cock-addicted office worker who just wanted to quit smoking if he wants to suck dick right now, if he’s thinking about it. 

Jay opens his mouth to respond, then freezes. Of course Barney wants to say no, how dare you, change me back, but he can’t get the words out, because he just wants to get down on his knees. Simon is thumbing at the button on his slacks, spreading his legs to make a Jay-sized space between. Mike’s heart is in his throat while he watches Jay, wondering if they should cut. Mike has his camera guy push in on Jay’s face, and he’s clearly struggling, but it’s not him, it’s the character. Mike would know if it was actually Jay who couldn’t decide what to do next, because he would look to Mike if he didn’t, asking with his eyes.

“This doesn’t make any sense,” Jay says, walking closer to Simon, his gaze pointed right between his spread open legs. “I’m straight. I like women.” 

“Did you enjoy it, at the gym?” Simon asks. He’s supposed to be half hard when he takes himself out, so Mike probably will need to cut, but for now he lets this play out. “Answer me, Barney. This is important. I need you to be honest.”

“It was--” Jay says, voice trembling because he doesn’t want to admit it. So unlike the real Jay, who couldn’t wait to tell Mike how much he loved all this, until he didn’t anymore. 

“It felt good, didn’t it?” Simon says. “Having a cock in your mouth. Feeling full like that, and swallowing another man’s come. Did you like the taste?”

“Yes,” Jay says, in a pained, tiny voice, stumbling closer. “It was, oh, god. I liked it, I did, fuck, what, why--”

“Don’t ask questions. Do you want to suck my cock?”

“Yes.”

They had talked about how Jay would deliver this line, and now he’s nailed it: like he’s pretending to be hypnotized again, though the doctor hasn’t even suggested putting him in another trance. He’s just asked a question that poor Barney doesn’t want to know the answer to. 

“Okay, cut,” Mike says. “Simon-- Do what you gotta do, you’re supposed to getting hard when you unzip.”

Mike doesn’t flinch, though he feels kind of bad for this direction. Dima has made himself scarce for the time being, at least. They’ve been working together long enough that Mike only had to give him a long look after lunch to communicate that he should disappear until they start his scene. Rocky and the camera guy are behaving like indifferent extensions of the equipment they’re operating, nobody even smacking gum. Simon’s biggest hurdle isn’t going to be Mike telling him what to do, he realizes now. It’s Jay, just Jay being there at all, too good to be true on a set like this, creating a kind of paradoxical performance anxiety because he’s too surrendered to the moment and the character, hanging there in a bubble while he waits for Mike to put him in action again. 

“Umm,” Simon says.

“I could--” Jay starts to say, still sounding like pathetic Barney, but Simon holds up a hand to shut him up.

“No, no,” he says. “I’ll just run to the men’s room, uh, be right back.” 

He springs away without Mike’s permission, but it’s fine. Mike adjusts the lights for the close ups and has Jay kneel on the floor where he’ll be when Simon comes back, checking the shots that the tripod he’s set up behind Simon’s chair will get. Like he hoped, Jay’s eyes look criminally green from this angle, implicating anyone who looks into them even via a camera. 

“I’m still soft, right?” Jay says, blinking up at Mike.

“Yep,” Mike says, clipped, and he has to look away. Jay is talking about his dick, but that’s not how Mike heard the question. 

Simon returns, walking awkwardly. He’s probably harder than he needs to be, but by the time he sits and shuffles back into position in the chair nerves will have brought him down a bit. Mike is feeling way more sorry for him than he expected to, though he’s not sure why. This is what he signed up for and he’s doing fine. Maybe Mike just feels bad for him for being the only one here who has an erection. Jay will have one soon, if they stick to the script. 

“Okay,” Mike says, coming in close so he can speak to just the two of them. “Dr. Lombard, you’re sounding as unimpressed as you can, but pleased. You’re impressed with yourself, not with Barney here. Give him condescending praise only. Barney, you feel starved for this even after sucking a dude off for the first time at the gym before you stormed in here like you were gonna kick your doctor’s ass. As soon as his dick’s in your mouth, you know why you really came and you’re so glad you did. No regrets or hesitation while you’re sucking him off. That comes later.” 

Jay nods. Simon stares up at Mike, holding both arms of the chair. Mike wants to slap him and remind him that he’s a millionaire, but he doesn’t think that would help. 

“This is the pinnacle of your life’s work,” Mike says to Simon, sternly. “The first supposedly straight guy you’ve successfully turned into a cock addict. You’re gloating, but it’s about way more than the blow job. You’re the supervillain, admiring your destruction. Only it’s not actually destruction,” he says, turning to Jay. “But only Barney knows that, and he’s barely figured it out yet. He’s in pure satisfaction mode while he does this-- It’s not just that the doctor happens to be here, having a dick. You’re thanking him for being the one who altered the course of your life, for showing you what you’re really like. Got it?”

“Got it, Mike.” 

Jay seems impatient to get the scene started. Mike is, too, but Simon clearly needed a moment. Now he seems more contemplative, thinking about what Mike said, and less cornered. 

“Okay,” Mike says, pacing backward. He lifts the clapperboard, thinking about how hard Jay laughed at him when he first used one for their porn shoots, which prior to that had felt kind of like hobbyist improv, even if they’d written a script and pre-sold copies online. He met Jay’s eyes and snapped the board. “Action.” 

“Go ahead,” Simon says, looking at Jay. “You can-- Take me out-- Shit, sorry, let me do that again.”

“Try this,” Mike says, stepping forward. He makes the kind of serious, calculating face he wants Simon to have in this scene. “Show me what you need.” 

It’s a line he wrote for his construction character, but he has a feeling there’s going to be a lot of ad-libbing when he’s the one taking his dick out for Jay, and it might work better here. It’s more condescending, less crass. 

Simon nods and takes a deep breath. Jay looks like he’s hanging on the doctor’s every word, at least. 

“Show me,” Simon says, with a curt nod down to the bulge in his pants that works pretty well, his expression back to stony malice. “Show me what do you need. Demonstrate.” 

Mike is pretty sure he hates that ‘demonstrate,’ but he can always cut it out. He watches Jay lower down on shaky legs and walk forward on his knees a little, his chest heaving under Simon’s borrowed, crooked tie. 

“Please,” Jay says, sounding like he’s not sure what kind of mercy he’s begging for. 

“Take me out,” Simon says. “It’s what you want. Sucking cock feels good, doesn’t it?”

“Yes,” Jay says, wet-mouthed, and then he’s tearing at Simon’s pants, probably a little too boldly but Mike is frozen, prepared to just watch this play out unless one of them really flubs it. 

Though he knows he shouldn’t, Mike thinks about the moment in college when he first let himself wonder if he was in love with Jay. They had been in Jay’s dorm room. They were usually there; Jay was more comfortable on his own turf, and Mike was already following him around like a dope. They were watching a movie one of their classmates had made, and it was boring as fuck. Jay was wired almost nonstop and bragged that he only slept four or five hours a day, but that day he was exhausted after staying up for twenty-four hours, trying to cram for a test after helping a friend with her stage show. He fell asleep on his narrow dorm bed, and when Mike looked over and realized why Jay had gotten so quiet, he saw him lying on his back with one little hand over his heart and the other resting on his belly, like he was protecting his softest parts subconsciously. He had his lips pressed together and his eyebrows pinched at first, then his whole face relaxed and his mouth opened just slightly. When Jay’s lips parted with a soft, wet sound that Mike felt like he shouldn’t have noticed, he was both snapped out of allowing himself to stare like that and thrown into something much darker and deeper, a place where he’s still wandering. 

He thinks of it now because he wonders if he should try to ADR such a sound in when he’s editing this: he can’t hear that little noise when Jay opens his lips for Simon’s dick, and wonders if their audience should be allowed to, or if he could ever capture it on audio the way he heard it that day and a bunch of times afterward, when he was the one holding himself out for Jay, waiting for those lips to part for him. 

“Good,” Simon says when Jay swallows him down like he’s hungry for it, choking a little in pretense of still being a novice. Mike told him to do that; they’ve discussed this at length. 

“Keep your hands still,” Mike barks when Simon is fidgeting too much, and the lost look that Simon gives him, mouth hanging open, makes Mike roll his eyes. Ever the professional, Jay continues on with sucking Simon’s dick, his hands clutched around his own thighs just like Mike instructed. 

“Sorry,” Simon says, and he winces. “Fuck.” 

“Do you need--”

“No, no, no, I’m fah, fine-- Fuck, okay, sorry. Go.”

Mike snorts but doesn’t say that Simon sounds too much like he’s calling action on Mike’s set. He’s not thinking straight, because Jay’s mouth is on his dick, which is understandable.

“That’s right,” Mike says, sharply, feeding Simon his next line. “Sucking cock is good for you, it’s what you need.”

Simon does the line, only breathing a little harder and not giving away that he’s actually out of his depth, that in reality Jay is the one in control here. Jay doesn’t even come up for air, but there’s really no reason to. As Mike suspected, Simon is not that big. 

“You can pet his hair,” Mike says when he can tell Simon is close. “Just once.”

He hears Jay moan, and he’s pretty sure it’s for him. 

Mike feels weak-kneed, feels himself glowering more in concentration than anything else. The closest he ever saw Jay come to crying was after his sister found out he was doing this and told him she felt like she didn’t know him anymore. She got over it, eventually; the money was too good and they all needed it badly. Jay’s mother pretends not to know, so far as Mike tell, barely ever able to get a word out of him about that. That day when Jay almost cried about what his sister had said, Mike grabbed his face and told him that was good, actually.

“Huh?” Jay said, looking relieved that he might be able to get mad at Mike rather than feel anything else. 

“Nobody gets to know you but me,” Mike had said, because his heart was pounding with the certainty that Jay needed him to not reconsider his words before speaking. He just let this fall out of him and waited to see what Jay would hear in it. 

Jay stood on his tip-toes, put his arms around Mike’s neck, and clung to him for a while. His shoulders were shaky when Mike squeezed him tight. 

“Yeah,” he finally said, soft, against the side of Mike’s neck. “I know.” 

To this day, Mike isn’t sure if Jay has ever been glad about that the way that Mike is. He watches Jay swallow Simon’s come, ready to snap at Simon when he seems like he might touch the top of Jay’s head again, but even as he’s unloading he remembers Mike is there soon enough to stop himself and grab the arm of the chair instead. 

“Now,” Simon says, already tucking himself away while Jay sits back, breathless, to gape up at him, breathing through his parted, shiny lips, seeming to force the air through the gap in his teeth in a way Mike has never had to tell him to do on purpose. “Doesn’t that feel better?”

“Uh-huh,” Jay says, spinny-eyed and hard in his pants. Which is in the script. Mike still credits himself, for giving Simon permission to touch Jay, conditionally. 

“Do you need to come?”

“Ah,” Jay says, looking down at his dick like he’s not sure. “Yeah, nh, but--” 

“You can jerk off. I won’t make you lick it off the floor.” 

Mike groans internally, because that’s a line in a different scene, after Jay has complained to his evil hypnotherapist that a mean construction worker made him lick his own come off a dirty floor, but whatever. It can be cut, and Simon can be forgiven for not quite having his shit together in this moment. He’s doing pretty well at looking calm and unimpressed, even while Mike can tell that the actual Simon is floored and more in love with Jay than ever, here in this demented moment that he’s been dreaming about with varying degrees of dread and arousal for weeks.

Jay sits back and spreads his knees as he’s taking himself out, pointing his gaze downward the way Mike told him to. He’s not staring up at the therapist, he’s sinking deeper into himself, growing increasingly ashamed of what he’s doing even as he gets closer to going off in his own hand, the therapist watching impartially. Simon even grabs the file and pen and makes a note while Jay is still frantically jerking off at his feet, which is actually great, weirdly hot. Mike wishes he could take credit.

“Unh,” Jay says when he comes, his head tilting back. 

“Watch the shoes,” Simon says, shifting his feet out of the way. 

“Sorry, ah, god--” 

“Our hour is up, Jay-- Fuck!” 

Mike kind of dies inside for Simon, cringing. Jay’s eyes pop open and he looks to Mike for direction, his face still all flushed. Dima’s snicker can be heard faintly from some dark corner, or maybe this time it really is the ghost.

“Go again,” Mike says when Simon looks at him, pale-faced like he somehow didn’t expect this would happen at least once. Mike did. “Do it again, you’re fine.” 

“Our hour is up, Barney,” Simon says, now sounding too annoyed, presumably with himself.

“Less intense,” Mike says. “More bored and dismissive.” 

Simon does it three more times before Mike is satisfied with the take. He could keep torturing the poor guy and maybe end up with a better delivery, but Jay probably wants to put his dick away, so he cuts.

The last scene to shoot before Dima’s is just Jay, stumbling around outside looking disheveled and shocked by his own behavior, lips all fat and shiny from sucking dick. Mike tells the camera guy to take a break, says he can shoot this himself. Simon disappears into the men’s room as Jay and Mike head outside together. 

“That was really good,” Mike says, comforted by the fresh air outside the studio, the heavy door that closed behind them to separate them from everything that’s going on inside, and by Jay’s clearing eyes, locked on his. “You okay?”

“Poor Simon,” Jay says, and when he grins a little Mike beams, helplessly in love. 

“He’ll be fine,” Mike says, hoisting the camera. “C’mon, don’t break character.”

“Sorry, yeah. Is the shirt right?”

Mike helps him tuck it in so it’s just rumpled and sad-looking enough, then steps back to get shots of Jay leaning against the side of the building looking stricken, lost, so alone with what’s happening to him. It’s too heartbreaking for porn, but their stuff always has a scene like this, so it’s also perfect. 

“Cut,” Mike says when he can’t take it anymore. He always gets to a point where he needs his Jay back, even just for five minutes between takes. He felt this way the whole time they were apart, all those years. He was at that point for so long, living atop its merciless spike. “You killed it,” he says. “You’re so fucking good at this.” 

“I’m just glad I don’t have to suck him off on camera again,” Jay says, wrinkling his nose. “It felt-- Mean?” 

“Aw, c’mon,” Mike says, though he understands. “He’ll be fine. He wanted to get down in the dirt with us sex punks. Now he can write about it in his memoir.”

“Asshole,” Jay says, but he’s smiling again. “You want to hear something funny?”

“What, Jay.”

“I kind of want a cigarette.” 

Mike snorts and adjusts Jay’s tie for him, neatening him up again for the next scene, using this as an excuse to be closer to him. Jay is all glowy, the way he always got when they did this and it was going well. Mike kisses his face a few times, holding on to the tie with both hands. Jay moans like he wants to object that this is unprofessional, but he looks happy when Mike pulls back.

They go back inside so Jay can take his turn in the men’s room to discreetly use the mouthwash Mike set out for him. Simon has emerged and seems okay, though his cheeks get pink when Mike approaches him. 

“This is harder than it looks,” Simon says. “No pun intended.” 

“You did great,” Mike says, clapping him on the shoulder. He feels rude for being so tall, and not sure why this guy and his money ever threatened him, suddenly. “Skipped ahead a little with that line about not making him lick it off the floor, but--”

“I said his name,” Simon mutters, glancing toward the men’s room to make sure Jay is still behind the door. “I used to-- In your old outtake videos, ha. I used to think it was so cute, when he said your name. Your real name.”

“You watched those, huh.”

“I thought you knew that?” Simon says, so mildly that Mike feels bad all over again. “I, ah. I thought everyone knew I was in love with Jay back then.”

Back when exactly, Mike wants to say, but he just lifts one shoulder and tries to keep his expression neutral. 

“I was so jealous,” Simon says, staring into space. He’s almost smiling but not really. “I guess this is like going back in time and proving to my past self that it wouldn’t have mattered if I was the one in the videos. Ah, well. That’s a wrap, for me, for the day, right?”

It is, and after Jay emerges Simon gives him a hug and offers to come back and pick him up later. Nobody is surprised that he doesn’t want to stick around, and Jay says he can get a ride home from Mike. 

“At least let me make you dinner,” Simon says. “Anything you want.” 

“Chicken soup,” Jay says, as if he was waiting for this request. “No noodles.” 

“You got it. I’ll do a pho broth.”

With that absurd statement hanging in the air, Simon gives Mike a glance, smiles tightly, and goes. Jay looks a little broken up when he’s gone, but that will work for the next scene, cruel as Mike feels for thinking so.   
  
“I know,” Mike says when Jay turns that broken up look on him. He gets it, he does. Mike wanted to love Candy the way she deserved, once, but there’s nothing to be done when you gave it all away for the first person who ever slept in your arms. “He’s okay. He told me he used to be in love with you, past tense.”

“Just now?” Jay says, looking alarmed. 

“Uh-huh. Don’t worry about him. What’d I tell you? They’re all in love with you, you just gotta leave ‘em on the side of the road and not look back.”

“Jesus, Mike. You were talking about Barney when you said that. I thought.”

“No, you didn’t.”

Mike winks, then feels stupid. Jay is all huffy and confused, so Mike ushers him toward the locker room set, because they might as well use it for the film. 

“I told you,” he says when Jay is getting his costume right, making it look like he’s putting his rumpled work clothes back on after a workout that did not sate his need for something that he can’t put his finger on until Dima wanders in wearing his too-tight shorts. “You can just flirt with doing it, we don’t need this to be a full on blow job. The one with the doctor could be the first.”

“I think it works better if I go through with it,” Jay says. “I’m not swallowing for this guy, though.” 

Mike isn’t sure if he means for Dima or the gym rat character, but either way it’s fine with him. 

“You’re in charge,” Mike says. “Since you’re making the call. I’ll let you, uh, freestyle it.”

“Don’t say that!” Jay punches Mike’s arm when he laughs. “Mike. Just-- I need you to--”

“Okay, I know, forget it. I’ll tell you what to do.”

Jay nods once, primly, and gets in place. Dima is lurking at the edge of the set. 

“He’s gonna suck you but he’s not swallowing,” Mike says, managing to feel crass about what they’re doing for the first time all day. 

“Got it, boss,” Dima says.

“He can come on my face,” Jay says, turning back to say this to Mike. “I think it’d be good if Barney takes like one shot in the face and then moves away like he’s disgusted, but then when he wipes his cheek he licks it off his hand like he can’t help it.” 

Mike doesn’t say again that obviously Jay is directing this scene, just nods and looks to Dima, who makes a face like he’s impressed and nods, too. 

The gym scene is basic porn stuff, and without the personal tensions lingering under the surface Jay does even better, sinking completely into poor Barney’s dick-hungry bones. They sub in stunt come that’s actually runny frosting after wiping the real face shot away, and the subsequent shots of Jay licking it off his hand like he can’t help himself are fucking inspired, particularly as he keeps going after his hand is clean, pushing his fingers into his mouth to make sure he got it all. Jay cuts the scene himself when he’s done. Mike gives him the green light to move ahead and Dima stands beside Mike, hands crossed over his chest, as they watch Jay curl over to put his forehead on the floor while he jerks off like he might start sobbing about it. He flops over against the bank of fake lockers as he finishes, probably a little too hard to use the wide shot, but Mike pushes in on his face to save at least the close up of him blinking his dazed eyes open like he just woke up in a new world and wants someone to come put a blanket around his shoulders and tell him it will be okay. 

“Cut!” Mike says, triumphant and hoping Jay feels it, too. “That’s a wrap for the day, great work everybody.”

He goes over to help Jay up, but Jay is already on his feet, tucking his dick into his pants and smiling at Mike like he feels it, too. They’re actually, finally making something good together again, and the hardest part is over. They can’t exactly coast from here, considering they have to do explicit scenes together and god knows what that will feel like, but from where Mike is standing he’s expecting whatever they capture on camera to be epic. They can deal with the feelings afterward.

“Mouthwash,” Jay says, pushing Mike away gently when he hovers into Jay’s space. “And I’m gonna change out of these clothes. What’d I do with my bag?”

He finds it and heads for the men’s room while Mike speaks to his guys about the shoot schedule for the rest of the week. Dima lingers while the other two start packing up.

“I don’t want to hear a review,” Mike says, as soon as Dima opens his mouth. “I know he’s good at it, I’m aware.”

“I wasn’t!” Dima says, holding up his hands. “Nothing rude, I promise. No, he’s the real thing, like you say. Like a real actor.” 

“Yes, I’m also aware of that.”

“How’d you ever talk him into this?” Dima asks, voice lower and eyes narrowing as he leans toward Mike. “I mean from the very start, eh? Just with your big dick, is all?”

“Oh, fuck off!” Mike says, shoving Dima away when he laughs, so annoyed that he’s almost tempted to reveal their secret, that it was always Jay’s idea. 

Jay waits until he’s heard the other three leaving to emerge from the men’s room, now wearing jeans and a t-shirt with an evil-looking robot on it. Mike loves that he still dresses like a kid. He loves everything about him, even how not-weird it felt to watch him suck two guys off under Mike’s direction. He wouldn’t change any of it, when he feels like this. 

They stand staring at each other, hands in pockets, and Mike tries not to think about the time Jay said he wanted to change all of it, in the cruellest way possible.

“I want to take you on a date,” Mike says. 

“Mike--”

“I know, I know. Simon’s waiting for you, Simon’s cooking for you, poor Simon needs you.”

“Jesus!” Jay huffs but doesn’t move away when Mike leans in to nuzzle apologetically at his face, so that Jay’s beard scratches against his eyelids. “I was gonna say I’d end up riding your dick if we went out together right now,” Jay says, and he smiles when Mike rears back in shock to goggle at him. “Not that you deserve to hear that.”

“Jay, you can ride my dick any time, immediately, right here in the studio--”

“I know that! I’m not gonna, though, because we’re doing this the way I said, on a schedule. And I’m-- Actually really into this so far, though I guess that sounds dumb.”

“It doesn’t sound dumb at all, jesus. You want to look at the footage with me? You’re a phenomenon. Still got it and then some.” 

“No-- No to looking at footage, not yet. Just-- Let’s take a drive. You don’t have to drive me straight back to Simon’s. We could drive around aimlessly like we used to.” 

Mike wants nothing more, except maybe the dick riding, but Jay is right that they need to save that for the right time, and with everything going well after their first day, Simon’s maybe wounded feelings not included, he doesn’t want to spend that nickel yet. When he fucks Jay again, it’s got to be the perfect moment, off camera, before their big scene in the movie, and Mike’s plan is to shoot that close to the end of their schedule, so that once it’s done he can just have Jay for real, for good, hopefully with some kind of magic worked on or off set that will mean they won’t end up back where they were when it all blew up. 

“I forgot how easy it is to walk away from how weird I always expect these shoots to be,” Mike says, kind of babbling when they’ve been driving for a bit and Jay has been quiet. He seems comfortable, calm, but he’s clearly thinking about something. “You know what I mean?” Mike says when Jay looks over at him. “The ones with you and someone else. Like, with Lance-- But then once he was gone, once it was just you and me, it was like he’d never been there.”

“I guess,” Jay says. “You’re not the one who has to go home to Simon and his homemade soup.” He grins when Mike looks at him again, aghast. “I’m kidding.”

“You could come home with me!”

“No, I want to go to bed early and just watch movies for a while, clear my head.” 

“Is it-- Okay?”

“My head?”

“Well. Yeah.”

Jay laughs and shoves Mike’s thigh, then leaves his fist settled there. 

“I’m fine,” Jay says. “Today was fun, actually.”

“You seem kinda pensive.”

“I am,” Jay admits. “I’m trying to decide if I should tell you about this project I’ve been working on.” 

“Of course you should, what project?”

Jay groans like he already regrets bringing it up, but he’s always been like this about his hopes and dreams, and then they come tumbling out of him and Mike treasures them like Jay wants him to and they both feel relieved. 

“Before I get into it, I should ask-- Can we shoot some behind the scenes stuff tomorrow when we’re doing the mundane scenes, for my website?”

“Yeah, man,” Mike says. “Whatever you want.”

“It’s actually not me. Gil texted me to remind me that it’s a good idea. And he’s right.”

Mike grunts at the mention of Gil but can’t disagree. They need all the positive press they can get to promote this movie. 

“What’s your project?” he asks, settling his hand over Jay’s fist, which is clenched pretty tight, still resting on Mike’s leg. “A script?”

“Yes,” Jay says, mumbling. “It’s-- I don’t know if it’s any good. I mean, it’s probably not. But maybe it could be, with some work, and shooting with you today-- Mike. It made me sure that, um. If I ever do anything with this project, I want your help.”

“You got it.” Mike lifts Jay’s hand to his mouth and kisses his curled fingers until Jay moans in complaint at the tenderness and pulls free. “What’s the premise? Is it porn?”

“Not really. Kinda. It’s kinda horror porn, but not the way Simon does it.” 

“Oh god, of course not, he doesn’t even really make porn, he just aspires to. You saw him today.”

“I saw him being a real good sport even when he felt embarrassed, Mike, so don’t be a dick.” 

“I’m not! You’re stalling.” This is typical Jay, dangling the carrot of emotional intimacy and then snatching it back until Mike has to pry it from his fingers. “Tell me what your script’s about.” 

“I guess it’s wrong to describe it as horror outright,” Jay says. “It’s more of a dark comedy. Like, extremely dark.” 

“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” Mike says. 

“Yes, you would!” Jay says, because Mike always recoiled at his darkest ideas, but he’s laughing, too, and already looks less tense. “It’s about these two dudes who meet at a sex addiction support group.” 

Mike withholds the ‘oh god’ he wants to mumble, because yep, this is sounding like a Jay idea already, nosediving right into despair. 

“Interesting,” he says instead. “Considering we’re also dealing with addiction in Mindfuck.” 

“Well-- Fantasy addiction for porn purposes, yeah. But this is more grounded in reality. There’s two main characters. One of them is bi but not out and he’s unhappily married. He’s addicted to porn. So’s the other guy, who’s single but like deep in the closet, and he won’t even admit to the group that he’s addicted to gay porn rather than the straight kind. He got ordered to go to the group because he got caught beating off at work. Meanwhile the married guy is trying to save his relationship, but he doesn’t really want to. Obviously they end up fucking.”

“Obviously,” Mike says, picturing himself and Jay in these roles already. “And then what? Where does the horror come in?”

“It’s emotional horror.”

“Ah, naturally.” 

“Not naturally! This is new material for me, and I’m not sure if I’m doing it right. But the idea is these two guys feeding off each other’s destructive energies and getting more and more unhinged as they have this wild affair. Like they’re falling in love but they’re not helping each other. They’re regressing, kinda, to this state of teenage delusion where they feel invincible.” 

“And then what?”

“That’s what I’m having trouble with. The ending. Simon thinks--”

“ _He’s_ read it?” Mike says, unable to conceal how much he hates the idea. He’d felt so above Simon, all day, and now this. Jay is looking at him like he’s crazy. “What?” Mike says. “I’m not allowed to be hurt that you showed him first?”

“Uhh, no? I’ve been working on this for years. Of course he saw it before you. He was-- There.” 

Mike sniffs and tries to get his flare up of entitled rage under control. Jay doesn’t deserve it, even if it is his fault that Mike wasn’t there instead, to read scripts and cook him meals. 

“I’ll show it to you,” Jay says, and there’s something patronizing in his tone that only makes Mike angrier. He makes a left instead of a right, heading toward downtown and Simon’s place. “Soon,” Jay adds, a little testily. “After our shoot, because I need to concentrate.”

“Then why are you bringing it up now?” Mike asks, and he regrets the volume and sharpness of his voice as soon as the words are out. “Sorry, fuck-- I’m sorry. I’m glad you told me. I just--” 

He makes himself shut up, because he doesn’t want to talk just now about how the loss of all those years when he could have had Jay’s ideas and suggestions and quiet presence in the passenger seat are hitting him anew as he thinks about Simon reading scripts and giving notes. Mike will never see the first draft of this thing, only whichever draft Jay is on now that Simon’s feedback has shaped it. He’d thought the thing that would piss him off today would be watching Jay suck someone else’s dick, but of course it’s actually something like this. He should have known. 

Jay doesn’t say much else, and Mike can tell he’s holding in some ‘this is why I never tell you things’ type remarks for the sake of having another peaceful day on the set tomorrow. They’ll shoot some solo stuff with Jay angsting about wanting to go out trolling for cock and a couple of mundane interactions with Barney’s co-workers, who will be played by local actors Mike has used before for non-explicit scenes. He’s trying to convince Jocelyn to do a small cameo as the receptionist just for old times’ sake, but she keeps deferring her answer and at this point Mike has to assume it’s ‘no, thanks.’ 

“You still run a really clean set,” Jay says when they’re pulling up to their usual point of departure in Simon’s building’s garage. 

“Clean?” Mike says, thinking of the cluttered shelves that line the studio walls. 

“Like-- Once the camera’s rolling, all the bullshit falls away. I’ve always loved that about you.” 

They look at each other, and Mike tries not to show how much that hurts. It’s like Jay saying that’s why so much of their relationship played out on camera, because without that Jay would be drowning in Mike’s bullshit.

Which isn’t untrue, or unfair. 

“You could come up,” Jay says. “To eat with us, I mean. But you probably shouldn’t.”

“I guess you feel like you owe him a lot,” Mike says.

“Of course I do, but-- You know me. I can take care of myself if I have to. I’m not trapped into anything with him. I hang around him ‘cause I like him.” 

Mike recoils, suddenly not sure what kind of conversation they’re having. 

“Whereas I hang around with you because I need you,” Jay says. His eyes are hard, like Mike tricked this confession out of him. “And I don’t mean for work, or money. I need you for everything that’s not that. Which I’ve always been pretty pissed off about.” 

“Every other thing you’ve said to me for the past month has been about how much you don’t need me,” Mike says, just to make sure he’s not going crazy, because what the hell is this, what now?

“Yeah, why do you think that is?” Jay asks, loud enough that Mike flinches and is also kind of turned on. He doesn’t think Jay has ever shouted at anyone else, not even close.

“I honestly don’t know,” Mike says, after he’s thought about the question, plastered to the driver’s side door like Jay might bite if he gets too close. 

“You want to know what the name of my movie is?” Jay asks, still giving Mike that hard, pitiless stare. “The script I was just telling you about?”

“Suuure,” Mike says, afraid to find out. 

“It’s called Hostages. Because it’s a love story.”

“Huh. And you can’t figure out the ending.” 

Jay scoffs and leans over to grab the collar of Mike’s t-shirt. He drags him close for a kiss that’s so dirty Mike’s ears burn, and he feels bad for Simon all over again, waiting up there with his chicken soup. He still kisses Jay back just as wet and shameless, shoving his tongue into Jay’s mouth and remembering how he licked that frosting off his hand, how his eyelashes fluttered while he let Mike push in close with the camera, getting all of it. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Jay says, shoving Mike back into his seat when he surges forward like he’s going to get in Jay’s lap. “Today was-- Good.”

“Are you gonna jerk off tonight?” Mike asks when Jay turns to open the car door. “Or are you still denying yourself for the sake of my production?”

“I’m denying myself,” Jay says. He opens the door, steps out. “Because it’s _our_ production, dickhead.”

He gives Mike an impish smile, then slams the car door and heads for the safety of Simon. Mike watches him go, sure that Jay and Simon have never fought, not even over some small thing, not even when Jay squirmed away from whatever attempts Simon must have made to really have him. It’s a weird thing to be proud of, this thought that Jay only wants to fight with him, like Jay’s movie idea about two people who get addicted to tearing each other apart. But it only looks that simple from the outside. Mike drives away, imagining Jay sitting across from Simon at that enormous, gleaming table with that spectacular sunset view and thinking about Mike in his cave-like bedroom, hoping that Mike is angrily jerking off to the thought of him.

Around midnight he gets a text from Jay:

_I forgot to tell you the best part of my script which is that the scenes of the two real world dudes are intercut with increasingly ridiculous clips of the porn they’re addicted to_

_and me and you could star in those if you want_

Mike types, _I’d rather be in the love story part with you_ , then deletes it, because that’s too on the nose, even for him, and also he’s sober. 

_sounds good_ , he sends instead. Jay doesn’t reply. Maybe he fell asleep. 

Their second day of shooting is a breeze compared to the charged atmosphere of the first, which was productive but unsustainable. Simon won’t return until the end of the week, for the scene where Mike’s character murders his, which will soak the set in blood and require a serious cleanup over the weekend. Most of the scenes after that will be just Jay and Mike on the construction site, and Mike had considered leaving them all for after Simon’s character’s stuff wraps, but he has the first on one the shoot schedule for their third day, because he needs to make some progress with the Vince character before he plays him in that bloody, wild climax, or it won’t ring true. 

So the third day shoot schedule is just Mike and Jay stuff, with only two of Mike’s crew on hand to do audio and camerawork. Mike picks Jay up in the morning, the coffee he has in the cupholder still hot.

“None for you?” Jay says when he’s holding it between his little hands, waiting to sip. 

“Can’t get too wired,” Mike says. “This is my big, uh. Return to the screen. Little nervous over here.”

“Awww,” Jay says, reaching over to squeeze his leg. “You’ll do great. Want to run lines on the way there?”

“No.” Mike shakes his head hard. He’s afraid he’d wreck the car, so keyed up with nerves and excitement that the steering wheel creaks under his grip. 

Mike is half in costume already, jeans and an intentionally dirtied white t-shirt. At the studio, Jay’s costume awaits, and since they’re the first ones there he changes in front of Mike, smirking at the looks Mike gives him. 

“You don’t seem too concerned about how this is gonna go,” Mike says. 

“I’ve got two days of shooting under my belt already,” Jay says. “And so do you. Just not on camera yet. Do you seriously think you’re not going to be great?”

Mike shrugs. He was never great, is the thing. He was just so in love with Jay that everything he did to Jay on camera turned captivating without Mike needing to do much in the way of acting. That hasn’t changed, but Mike isn’t exactly the young man he once was, and the circumstances are so different. He can’t stop thinking about how hard their last few shoots were, when they were still a couple, before Jay exploded everything. 

The crew arrives and Mike straps on his stupid tool belt. They veto’d the hard hat because his character is the type who’d eschew regulations whenever he could get away with it, and because it looked stupid as shit on Mike, even while it concealed his receding hairline, which he’d initially been pretty excited about. He puts an orange safety vest on over the t-shirt, telling himself that it’s at least more flattering than having his beer belly fully uncovered. 

“Okay,” he says when everything is in place and Jay is ready to go, wearing his freshly ironed costume pieces, his hair perfect, shoes shined because his guy is on his way to work, stopping by to look at a dude who’s drinking from a Gatorade bottle near the fenced off construction site. “So, this is Vince’s intro scene, obviously, and Barney knows he’s bad news and that he should stay away, but he’s drawn to him because he can just sense that he has a really big dick.”

“Mike wrote this,” the camera operator says, and everyone snickers, except Mike, who only manages a queasy half-smile.

“All right, everybody shut up. Roll the fuckin’ cameras.”

He lets Jay do the clapperboard and paces for a few seconds, trying to tell himself they can do as many takes as they need, that they’ve got all day. He’ll devote ten hours to getting this one scene right if he has to, to prove that there’s still something magnetic between him and Jay that can be captured on camera, like evidence of the supernatural. 

“Action,” Mike says, turning to see Jay watching him curiously from off camera. 

Mike throws his head back, chugs the Gatorade. He just feels like himself, too big and too weak at the same time, but that’s okay. He’ll get into it. Jay will help. He just needs a few takes to kick out the dust. 

Jay wanders into frame, a messenger bag strapped across his chest to make him look extra boyish and out of his depth while he cranes his neck, pretending to look at the skeleton of the building that the scaffolding they have set up on the edge of the set represents. 

“You lookin’ for somethin’, pal?” Mike says.

Jay winces and recoils. 

“What is that voice?” he says. “Don’t do that.”

“It’s-- He’s got an accent!”

“Well. It’s one you can’t do. Mike, don’t overcomplicate this for no reason--”

“It’s not for no reason. It’ll sound stupid in my real voice.”

“No, it won’t. You never did a voice when we rehearsed--”

“But I always did one as Sid, and Ronnie, and the biker--”

“That was-- Okay, but those were just like, gruff, and I thought we both agreed the Ronnie one deflated some of the hotness, in hindsight--” 

“Cut!” Mike says, as if that isn’t obvious. “Just-- Stop rolling for a minute.”

His guys comply and hang back, neither of them daring to sling a joke now. 

“Try it without the accent,” Jay says. He’s clutching at the strap of the messenger bag, either still kind of meekly in character as Barney or nervous about trying to give Mike direction. “Just see which feels better.”

Mike groans and walks in a circle, the meat of his palms dug into his eyes. He wants to get mad at Jay, won’t be able to do this character right if he just feels needy for his approval or desperate to please him. 

“All right, roll,” he says, though he doesn’t feel ready. 

Jay gets back into place. He looks nervous now, on Mike’s behalf. Or maybe he’s just being Barney. 

“You lookin’ for something, pal?” Mike says. 

“You’re still doing the accent,” Jay says, wilting in place. 

“I made it more subtle!”

“Not really? And I don’t think you should say pal, it’s too corny even for this.”

Mike snarls a little and tries it again, attempting his normal voice. Somehow it still doesn’t come out sounding like him, even without the accent. But he’s not supposed to sound like him, he’s supposed to become this other person, and with Jay just standing there neatly dressed in Simon’s clothes it’s not working at all. 

They do ten more takes without getting past the first line or Mike feeling like he’s coming anywhere close at all to getting it right. Jay tries to reassure him and Mike brushes him off. He has the guys stop rolling again and says he needs a glass of water, storming upstairs like they don’t have a whole fridge full of water bottles on the studio floor. 

Mike slams the door of his office and resists the urge to knock over a lamp. His face is hot, and a flush of terror is moving down the back of his neck, making him sweat. There’s a real hammer on his tool belt, and he wants to hoist it over his head and bring it down on his desk, computer, anything. But that’s not the kind of anger he needs to harness if he’s going to actually get this character right. 

He needs the cold, simmering kind of rage, and he needs to direct it at Jay. He has to play these scenes like somebody who knows he’s too good for this little shit who’s sliding up into his business looking for some dick, has to turn into someone who wants to use Jay until he’s crying. Later he can work on the part where his guy realizes he’s in over his head, too, enough to do murder for the green-eyed demon who just wants to suck his dick and run away. 

He falls into his office chair and closes his eyes, letting himself think about that last fight with Jay and the tense, fragmented shoots that lead up to it. He knows it’s the bad memories holding him back now, making him afraid it could start to feel like that again. 

They were at home, in their apartment. Mike was dragging his feet getting ready to leave for the location where they’d stopped shooting the day before, blaming it on the light when they both knew it was more than that. Jay had been moody for weeks, getting into fights with their supposed fans on their site’s forum, staying up until five in the morning and drinking more than Mike on the rare occasions he agreed to go out with their friends. 

“Can you hurry the fuck up?” Jay asked when Mike made his third excuse to not leave for the shoot yet, because he didn’t want to get there and feel like he had the day before, like he’d never known what he was doing or why Jay was doing it with him. “I have other shit I need to get done today.”

“Like what,” Mike said, lethargic and seated at his computer, pretending he was going to respond to a work-related email that he’d been staring at for half an hour while he waited for Jay to blow up about it. 

“Real life shit,” Jay said. “I need to go to the bank, and Keri wants me to help her with the lighting at her gallery thing.” 

Mike snorted. 

“What?” Jay snapped. 

“Keri’s a fucking hack.”

“Yeah, so? What the fuck do you think we are?”

Mike just groaned. Jay had said this before. He’d always sounded like he was joking, until he didn’t anymore. 

“Just go ahead and say you’d rather be doing anything but working with me,” Mike said, turning to glare at him. 

Jay shrugged. His face was blank in a way Mike didn’t even recognize, like he’d shape-shifted into somebody Mike didn’t know. 

“Do you want me to?” Jay said. “Really?” 

Mike didn’t say anything or even attempt to get the hateful look off his own face. 

“Just,” Jay said, looking up at the ceiling like he didn’t have time for this, above all. He looked back at Mike again and stuffed his hands into his jacket pockets, jiggled his keys inside one. His face was getting pink the way it always did when he was about to finally be fucking honest. “It’s just, like. Yeah, okay? Most days I wake up wishing I could pretend none of this had ever happened. And then I roll over and see you, and I think, if you weren’t there, I could.”

Mike had not been prepared to be dropkicked through the earth. He’d thought Jay would say something nasty and they’d fight and maybe fuck later, and go on doing this for however long, holding on just for the sake of some old magic that by then had seeped out through the cracks. 

Once he heard that confession and saw the way Jay’s face fell as realized how bad and true what he’d said was, he knew it was over and stood to walk out without looking back. 

Jay didn’t stop him. Mike got all the way to Arizona and didn’t really wake from the booze-assisted blur that had gotten him there for a couple of years. By then he was married to Candy and telling himself every day: this was better, better, so much better than being locked in the dungeon of loving somebody more than they loved him. 

He opens his eyes and stands, can hear his breath coming out a little ragged. On the way back down to the studio floor he bottles up the old pain he just siphoned out of his bones and pours it into the mold of his character, a bitter blue collar schlub who sees a guy in a too-nice suit staring at him and wants to kick his ass at first, before he realizes what the guy wants from him and then wants to do other things to that ass while fucking up his already scrambled brain even worse. 

“Roll ‘em,” Mike says, without giving Jay a moment to try to coddle him. Jay looks uncertain and curious, which is perfect for Barney in this moment. “Action.” 

Jay moves to his mark and then back into frame, worrying his tiny hands along the strap of the bag. Mike chugs the Gatorade while watching Jay come closer from over the shape of the bottle as he tilts his head back. He wipes his mouth when he’s done and pitches the bottle into the trash they’ve scattered around the fence that separates him and Jay. 

“You need something?” he asks, in his real voice, only meaner. 

“No,” Jay says, sounding like he’s pretty sure he does, and like he just found it. 

“Then what are you looking at.”

“The-- What are you guys building?” Jay points upward stupidly. “I, uh. I work nearby,” he adds when Mike just stares. 

“What’s bothering you? The noise? Take it up with my boss.”

“No, it’s-- Fine, I just--” 

Mike stalks closer and Jay goes silent. If Jay has another line, Mike has forgotten it. Jay looks like he has, too.

“You want a tour?” Mike says, jumping ahead a little in their dialogue. 

Jay swallows and shakes his head, backing away.

Mike starts to smile, just in his eyes, and he can feel how scary he looks, old hurt pulsing through him and making him feel twice Jay’s size, ready to punt him like a football. 

“Run along, then,” he says, with the confidence of someone who knows Jay will come back, and that he’ll let Mike hurt him when he does. 

What he would have once given to have even the faintest suspicion that he could count on Jay to return. Now he feels something long buried surging back to life in him, and he grins for the camera and for real as Jay stumbles out of frame like he doesn’t know what Mike is doing, and like he’s not sure if he’s more afraid or eager to find out. 

**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is kind of a throwback to earlier angst theme song for this chapter also relevant! (all I've been listening to while writing this chapter is Future Islands but I don't feel like their stuff works for this story lol)
> 
> [Less Than I Do](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MrTJ8BSIuqk)


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic continues to take me a month per chapter despite all my best laid plans, but now I'm in the home stretch and optimistic that I can get one more chapter out before the end of the year, since it's the one I've most been looking forward to... but I'm gonna try to finish a long-ish xmas-themed fic for these two first, so we'll see!! :>>
> 
> Thanks again for all the comments and support, and happy holidays <3 <3
> 
> *

By the end of their first day of shooting scenes together, Mike is so keyed up and deeply in character that he wants to order Jay upstairs to his office while everyone else packs up, not even for anything sexual but just to prove he can do it. He resists the impulse, nervous already about how easily they’re sinking so into their old onscreen dynamic, even before shooting any sex scenes. It’s good, some of the best pre-sex tension stuff he’s shot in years, possibly since the old Sid and Dex shorts, but outside of the shoot schedule there’s a whole world of ways it’s gone wrong in the past that could still come back to haunt them, so he gives Jay a ride home as planned and doesn’t even try to kiss him after parking in Simon’s building’s garage.

“I know you were freaked out at first,” Jay says, reaching over to settle his hand on Mike’s bicep, probably insulted that Mike isn’t throwing himself on him as usual. “But I knew you could do it. And you did. You were, like-- Perfect, in that role.”

“I’m only one day into the shoot,” Mike says, though he knows what Jay means and agrees. He’s still sort of coasting on the sick pleasure of being an asshole, playing one on camera and letting it seep into his direction a little, too, because why not? “But thanks,” he says, also aware that he should keep his worst impulses in check. “I feel better now. Tomorrow, though,” he says, lifting his eyebrows and knowing Jay will understand what he’s referring to: their first sex scene on camera in nine years, with Jay on his knees for Mike’s dick. 

“I know,” Jay says. He lets go of Mike’s arm and pulls his hands into his lap. “It’s gonna be easy, though,” he says, smiling, to show Mike he’s still in control here. “‘Cause we’ve been practicing.”

“Ha,” Mike says, not sure if he’s annoyed or hurt by this or something. Jay has a sweet, tired expression on his face, and Mike is mostly just mad that he can’t bring Jay home and come back to himself while Jay does the same, leaning against each other on the couch and talking over all the details the way they used to. 

“Speaking of that,” Jay says. “We should pick a day for our, uh. Private practice session. For the other thing.” 

“The other thing.”

“The anal scene, Mike.”

Mike wrinkles his nose at the cynical way Jay pronounced that. As if the times they fucked in private were ‘anal scenes’; as if it will just be some kind of physical limbering of their old, unused muscles and not earthshattering on an emotional level for both of them, having that kind of sex again. 

“‘I dunno,” Mike mumbles. “Maybe this picture doesn’t need an anal scene.” 

“Jesus, what? Don’t get cold feet now. I’m pretty sure it’s non-negotiable in the contract we signed, for one thing.” 

Mike shrugs and avoids Jay’s stare for as long as he can. Jay waits him out, patient as usual, and Mike doesn’t like how pitying he looks when their eyes finally meet. 

“I do want the other part,” Mike says. “Me and you. Practicing.” 

“Right, so--”

“Only I don’t want it to just be practice. Fuck, Jay! Stop being so level-headed and detached, it’s giving me the creeps.”  
“I’ve always been this way, and it’s always given you the creeps. Don’t get all fucking whiny about me calling it practice. I just mean-- After we wrap this movie-- It’ll feel different, then. Different from how it’s gonna feel when we’re also warming up for the shoot. I want it to be different, after. Like, real.” 

Mike tries to parse this with real optimism and feels himself making a mean face while doing so. 

“It’s been a long day,” Jay says, sharply enough that Mike’s expression sinks into something closer to pathetic. “Maybe we should schedule it later. Just, tomorrow--” 

“No, you’re right,” Mike says, not wanting to think about tomorrow, when he’ll have to take his dick out on camera for the first time in so long. He’s banned Dima and Rocky from the set, but it’ll be weird enough with just the crew guys he’s accustomed to bossing around confidently there recording the scene. “Let’s say a week from today,” Mike says. “That fits with the shoot schedule.” 

“Why wait a week?” Jay asks. 

Mike sort of gulps down the reply he wanted to make, something like teasing Jay for being impatient to get Mike’s dick up his ass, but the look on Jay’s face is too insultingly stoic, as if he’s making a dental appointment. Mike can’t even make the joke. 

“How about Sunday?” Jay says. He’s touching the handle on the passenger side door, his fingers worrying over it in a telling way. “That way, uh. We’ll have one day off, you know, between-- To clear our heads.”

Mike snorts, because what’s Jay going to do on Saturday to clear his head after sucking Mike’s dick in their Friday scenes? He makes himself stop sneering and nods. 

“Yes,” Mike says, trying to force himself to be stone-faced and unafraid like Jay, even while Jay keeps futzing with the door handle in a way that tells Mike he’s nervous, sweating this. “Sunday’s fine.” 

“Okay,” Jay says, and he looks so helpless and lost for a second that Mike breaks his resolve and leans over to kiss him. Jay laughs against Mike’s mouth, then parts his lips and kisses back, one hand coming up to clutch at Mike’s ear. 

“I’m looking forward to it,” Mike says, mumbling this into Jay’s mouth in what he hopes is a seductive fashion. 

“Me too,” Jay says brightly, leaning back. “And tomorrow, too. Did I tell you I had a dream that I was an office worker in a miserable job, last night?”

“You know you haven’t told me that yet, Jay.”

“Yeah, well. You were my boss. You were mean as fuck. You told me I had lost the privilege of wearing pants at work.” 

Jay is smiling like all of this is good news. Mike raises his eyebrows. 

“Was it hot?” he asks. 

“Not really, but it made me miss you, when I woke up.”

“Aw.” 

Mike goes for another kiss. Jay allows it only for a few seconds, snickering the whole time, his hand open on Mike’s chest to keep him in place. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Jay says, patting Mike there a few times. 

“Call me boss,” Mike says. “Just once. Please?”

“Uh, no. Bye, Mike.” 

Mike whines. Jay didn’t even call him boss when they were roleplaying with Jay bent over Mike’s lap while Mike spanked him. Jay gives Mike a parting look of smug, long-suffering fondness, and Mike misses him as soon as his ass leaves the passenger seat. He reaches over to touch the warm spot where Jay was sitting as he watches him go, feeling the predatory thing he’s let himself lean into as the Vince character all day rising through him again. 

Soon, he thinks, lifting his lip a little. Soon everybody’s gonna see who your boss still is, after all this time. 

*

Mike sleeps poorly that night and wakes up feeling like he should be in a better mood. He’s still tired as he drags himself out of bed. It’s fine in the sense that it will work for his character’s short temper and routine of working hard all day and staying up late drinking at dive bars. He has a whole backstory for Vince and a complete sense of what his daily life is like, not because he necessarily needs it to get into character as someone who wants Jay to suck his dick, just because all this character development stuff is fun for him. He wants to talk about it with Jay, and wants to feel as lucky as he should that his own work day will involve getting several blow jobs from Jay in the process of making a movie with him, and that in two days time they have scheduled the occasion of their first fuck in nine years, but something has him feeling like he’s stumbling through a series of booby traps that might go off at any moment. 

It’s the way he got blindsided back in the day, he decides, in line at the Starbucks drive thru. He knew things had gotten shitty, but had no sense of what was coming when Jay essentially said that he hated waking up next to Mike every morning and wished he was gone. He understands now that Jay regrets it, and that Jay expected them to reunite sooner than they did, but none of this makes him feel like he can count on not being drop-kicked again when he least expects it, or in a way he didn’t see coming despite all his fretting about what could go wrong. 

“You don’t have to do this every day, you know,” Jay says when he climbs into Mike’s car and accepts the Starbucks cup. “But. Thanks.” 

“It’s the least I can do,” Mike says, already feeling moody and sick of Jay’s ‘you don’t have to love me as much as you do’ bullshit. “Considering what you’ll be doing all day on my set.” 

“Ha ha,” Jay says. He seems chipper enough, smiling at Mike’s surliness. “Gil tried to call me last night.” 

“Ugh.”

“Yeah. We should probably check in with him soon.”

“I’ll do it Monday,” Mike says, thinking about the fact that he and Jay will have fucked by then, and that this will have either changed the world or not. 

It’s just the two of them with one camera guy and a sound tech at the studio, with the warehouse’s garage door open to let in natural light for their construction set exterior. The actual blow job scenes will take place on an interior set once Vince lures Barney onto the site to follow him into the partially constructed building, but shooting even the flirting lead-up scenes with the door open was getting Mike off a little the day before. He could see it working for Jay, too, who’s always outmatched him in the exhibitionist department. He watches Jay buttoning Simon’s shirt up over his undershirt and walks over to fuck with his hair a little.

“What are you doing?” Jay asks, rearing back to evade Mike’s hands. “This is a morning scene, the hair’s supposed to be perfect.”

“Wrong. He’s unraveling a little already, and he spent the whole night tossing and turning, needing some dick. Let me pull one cowlick out of place. It’s cute, anyway.”

Jay rolls his eyes but lets Mike extract a cowlick. He smells nice in a way that Mike hopes is deliberate, Barney-based, because it’s making Mike want to dirty him up, both in character and as himself. 

“Okay, Barney,” Mike says when Jay follows him toward their marks, the cameras not yet rolling. “Like I said, you had a real rough night, thinking about sucking cock and about this Vince guy who you keep being compelled to stop and talk to on your way to work. You know why, but you haven’t admitted it to yourself, not really. You’re in a fog where you’re constantly just on the verge of accepting that all that matters is satisfying this nonstop hunger to have your mouth full of you know what.”

Jay hums a little under his breath, probably resisting the urge to tell Mike he knows all this, because they just shot the preceding scenes with Vince and Barney the day before. He keeps his mouth shut, already on his best behavior for Mike, who smirks a little and tells his camera guy to start rolling. The tech lifts the boom mic, and Mike calls action.

“You again,” Mike says as Jay edges into frame looking adorably unsure, that cowlick wavering just right over his flushed forehead. “Decide you need something after all?”

“No,” Jay says primly, clutching at the strap of the bag across his chest like it’s a seatbelt that might save him. “Just. Wanted to say, uh. Good morning.” 

“Jesus,” Mike says, grinning wide and wicked. He already feels like this is the take, feels like he used to when they’d get it right the first time because they were both so fucked up on wanting to fall into this already, before they were even recording. “How ‘bout you let me give you that tour, blondie? I can tell you’re curious.” 

“Er,” Jay says, shuffling in place. “I guess I have time, but. What’s there to see?”

“You’re about to find out. Come over here, there’s a break in the fence.” 

They cut to switch to the interior set after getting footage of Jay creeping under the fence while Mike watches, menacing and smiling faintly at how Jay is already moving submissively, lowering his head under the loose section of chain link. Mike doesn’t look at Jay after cutting, just goes over to close the garage door. 

“You don’t want to do another take?” Jay asks. 

“Do you?” Mike asks, turning to look at him with the door half lowered, as if he can hold the entire weight of it in his palm, no levering mechanism required. 

“I mean,” Jay says, shuffling inside the fence like he’s fucking Barney, red-cheeked from the heat that’s always trapped on the first floor of the studio at this time of year. “I guess not.” 

Mike thinks of accusing him of stalling, but the camera guy and the sound tech are watching, listening, so he just shuts the door and beckons Jay over to the interior set, where Vince gets all of his blow jobs from Barney. Only the anal scene takes place elsewhere, in the hypnotherapy office, when shit has really gone off the rails for everyone involved. 

Jay is sort of agitated and jumpy while they set up for the next shot, maybe just staying in character. There will be pit stains on the sleeves of Simon’s fancy shirt by the time they’ve finished this scene, but that’s okay. They have three others in rotation for Jay’s wardrobe, all Simon’s. 

Mike feels none of his usual bitterness at the thought of Simon now. Simon has never been what Jay needs, even now that he has so much to give. It’s all just more stuff that will weigh Jay down, non-specific to what he really requires. Only Mike has ever had what Jay really needs, which is why-- And Mike hates the thought, but he can’t deny the truth of it while he stares Jay down and they stand at the outermost edge of the scene they’re about to dive into-- It’s why Jay hates him, a little, because Mike is the seedy flophouse Jay wants to call home, and when Jay thinks of it as what he deserves, it feels different for him than it does for Mike. 

“Action,” Mike says, without asking Jay if he’s ready.

Jay looks at Mike like he doesn’t remember his line. Mike just looks back like he could wait all day, though Vince of course is on a schedule. 

“So,” Mike says, ad-libbing. “Barney. That’s your name, right?”

“Uh-huh,” Jay says, looking not so sure.

“Do you remember mine?”

“Um. Vince.” 

“Good boy.” 

Jay’s eyes widen, because that’s not in the script. Mike wishes he had a third crew person here to adjust the lights to pick up that blush across the bridge of Jay’s nose and up along his forehead, all the way to his hairline, but the scene is supposed to be dimly lit, made to look like an unfinished room tucked away on the building’s first floor, the walls and floor painted to look like bare concrete. And Mike doesn’t want to break character to bark crew instructions anyway. 

He steps closer. Jay seems to consider retreating but holds his ground and squares his shoulders, trying to seem taller as Mike stalks toward him. 

Mike can’t remember his lines either, at least not precisely, but it doesn’t matter, never did.

“Why don’t you tell me what you need, Barney,” Mike says, thumbing open his jeans. 

Jay gets on his knees. Just like that. Not in the script, but neither is what Mike just said, exactly. Mike has to fight to keep from looking surprised, then he thinks: Vince would be, a little, even now, and lets his eyebrows go up. 

“I want to suck your cock,” Jay says, looking like he’s not sure how he got on the floor. He’s staring up at Mike, doing that face that made them semi-famous, that sweet, hungry, ‘how can you do this to me’ expression that also looks like ‘don’t stop.’ “Can I?” he asks, shuffling closer, on his knees. Getting Barney’s work pants dirty. “Please?”

“Thought you might be looking for a fuck,” Mike says, tearing his jeans open. He’s a little bit hard already, just from Jay, and from the heat of the lights on the set. He’s always gotten off on all the filmmaking accessories that circle around these scenes. “But, sure. You can suck my cock. Go ahead, bitch. Looks like you fuckin’ need it.” 

Jay does a tiny nose twitch when Barney silently objects to be called a bitch, even now, and Mike wants to shower him in praise: perfect, that’s perfect, just right. He keeps his expression stoic and smug and takes his dick out. Just a few pumps and he’s fully hard, Jay moving closer like he’s transfixed, breathing with his lips parted. 

“There you go,” Mike says, low under his breath when Jay’s mouth opens around the head of his cock, and this is in the script. Mike has to remember his specific beats once his dick is involved, because getting it to perform right is part of the job. “Yeah, there you fucking go. Damn, you’re eager. Little slut, sniffing around for a cock to suck. That one big enough for you? Open wide, there’s more.” 

Distantly, he’s aware that the love of his life is sucking his dick and that it’s being recorded for a movie that will be somewhat majorly distributed. He has to be more Vince than Mike right now, though also still Mike. He grabs a handful of Jay’s perfect, gel-tacky hair and tugs him down onto his dick the way they talked about, because Vince is forceful and always pushing Barney to take more. Jay moans sadly, which is in the script, because Barney is thinking about how now both his pants and his hair are fucked up, and work starts in half an hour. 

“Shut up, you can take it,” Mike says. They’ve never had a safe word and now Mike doesn’t know what the fuck he was thinking, letting Jay call that particular shot. “Came in here like a slut begging for cock and now you’re gonna cry ‘cause I’m in your throat? Fuck, yeah, just take it. You look good like this, Barney. On your knees, fucking pathetic. Sucking on a real man’s cock.” 

Mike can’t remember if they scripted that last line for this project or not. Sid used to say it to Dex. 

Jay is hard in Simon’s pants. Mike wants to put his boot on that hardon and taunt him for it, but that happens in another scene. This one is mostly about dirty talk, paving the road that leads to nastier stuff later. 

“Yeah, fuck,” Mike says, both hands on the back of Jay’s head as he really fucks into his mouth. They talked about this: Jay is meant to be struggling and red-faced and almost teary-eyed, in over his head suddenly with this new dick that he was so hungry for. His hands are in fists over his knees, which means he’s fine. If he ever isn’t he’ll just shove Mike off. Mike thumbs at Jay’s ears without meaning to; they’re hot. “Gonna come now,” Mike says, and it takes him off guard, a little, though they’ve got more than enough footage to make this scene work. “And you’re gonna-- Swallow it-- Fuck, _yeah_ \--”

Jay drinks it all down, eyelashes fluttering like it’s the drug he’s been needing. Mike pets his hair as he gulps down the last of it, styling it sloppily back into place. 

“Thank you,” Jay says, starry-eyed and staring up at Mike when he’s pulled off. “That was so good.”

“Yeah? You like the taste of come?” Mike touches Jay’s burning cheek, the little drop of moisture at the corner of his eye. “Well, you can come back and suck my dick any time. Fuck, it made you hard, huh?”

“I-- Yeah--” Jay looks down at his crotch, moving his hands as if to cover himself. 

“You should come, then,” Mike says, backing away as he does up his jeans. His legs feel a little shaky and his nipples are embarrassingly erect, but the safety vest he has on will conceal them on camera. “Go ahead,” he says when Jay hesitates. Mike crosses his arms over his chest, squares his shoulders like a subtle threat. “I wanna see your puny dick go off after you got hard from letting me use your mouth. Take it out.” 

This is all scripted stuff. Jay unbuttons his pants with a perfect combination of seeming hesitation and eagerness to please Vince, even after he’s gotten what he needed from him for the time being. He takes his cock out and Mike withholds a moan. Jay didn’t even have to touch himself between takes. He got hard for what he was doing, for sucking Mike off in front of the camera guy and the sound guy, or maybe he forgot them and fell right into character. Maybe he just liked having Mike’s cock in his mouth that much, witnesses and roleplaying aside. 

It does take a while for Jay to come, and they cut a few times so Mike can crouch down and help him. He expects Jay to protest, but he clearly wants to get the scene wrapped and just nods every time Mike asks if he wants a hand, doesn’t even pull away when Mike kisses him on the mouth to take the edge of a little as Mike jacks his cock for him, cameras still rolling because he can just edit this out. Jay sighs against Mike’s lips and blinks heavily until he says he’s ready, stand up, go. 

When he comes he curls his shoulders forward in his signature Barney way and looks up at Vince with dumb relief. 

“Get that mess off my work site,” Mike says, pointing, and Jay stammers in disbelief in a few different takes before bending over like he’s going to lick it up. They cut and Mike cleans Jays come up before replacing it with the prepared frosting that his sound guy fetches for him. They lock eyes as he’s handing it over and the guy looks a little skittish but grins. 

“You okay?” Mike asks as Jay kneels there watching Mike splatter frosting into ejaculate-like patterns on the freshly cleaned floor. 

“Fine,” Jay says. “You?”

“Mhmm hmm.” Mike swaps the frosting out for the cinnamon and sugar mixture he made to look like dirt and construction site dust, sprinkles that around for the close up. 

It’s a good shot, painful and hot, pushed in on Jay’s mortified but cooperative face. Mike gets back into place as Vince after directing the close-ups. They can ADR some Vince taunts in later if needed. 

“Damn,” Mike says, trying to look both disgusted and fascinated by his disgust. “I didn’t think you’d actually do it.” This is the scripted line, which Jay wrote. Mike thinks it’s uniquely cruel, and he can’t deny it’s also hot, hinting at an actual person lodged somewhere within Vince’s otherwise bare bones character. 

Jay looks up at him pitifully in response, nose twitching. He wipes at his mouth with the sleeve of his still neatly-buttoned work shirt, which is a good instinct.

“Now scram,” Mike says, tilting his chin.

Jay wrinkles his nose again, but differently, flipped back to himself again.

“You just did the voice,” Jay says. “Do another take.”

“I-- What?” Mike channels his annoyance into Vince’s mean expression. “Run along, then,” he says, also annoyed by how unnatural it feels to revert to his real voice, because Jay was right, he was slipping into cheesy territory there, being lazy. 

“Run along doesn’t sound right either,” Jay says. He turns toward the sound guy. “Can we get the script, what’s the line?”

“Never mind,” Mike says, angrily waving the script guy off. “I got it.” He refocuses on Jay-as-Barney, crosses his arms over his chest again. “Get up,” he says, coldly. “I gotta get back to work, and so do you.” 

“Yeah,” Jay says, standing unsteadily, messing with his tie. “I, uh--”

“Come back at five and suck me off again. Don’t be late.” 

Mike walks toward Jay and grabs his arm, hauls him off the set while he’s still trying to find his footing. They do another take where Jay gets up first and walks off timidly while Vince stares him down, and a couple more with different ways of Vince demanding a second blow job later, also a few different replies from Jay. By the time they cut for a break the fact that they just had their first sex scene on camera together in nine years already feels like a minor footnote in the rest of their work day. 

“You can pick what we order for lunch,” Mike says to Jay while the crew guys are prepping for the scene they’ll shoot after the break. “Since, uh. You know. What dessert will be.” 

Mike tries to smile as if he thinks this was a winning joke. Jay just looks at him like he’s an idiot, but not like he’s actually mad. 

“Your come won’t instantly take on the flavor of your lunch,” Jay says. “You know that, right?”

“I dunno, I metabolize things pretty quickly. Despite appearances. That was great stuff, by the way.” 

“Yeah,” Jay says, nodding. “I like how that turned out, I think. Can I see the close-up stuff, after we wrap for the day?”

“Of course you can. How about I just eat a can of pineapple for lunch?” 

Mike grins again, and this time Jay almost does, too. They had a joke about this when they were together. Pineapple was Jay’s favorite when it came to the way it flavored Mike’s jizz.

“You’ll be starving if that’s all you have,” Jay says, walking over to pat Mike’s chest like he’s well-behaved and like Jay approves. “But maybe that and, like. A plain bagel.” 

“Cream cheese, yes or no?”

“Oh fuck you,” Jay says, but then he’s laughing, and he even lets Mike kiss him for a few seconds before pushing him away and telling him to be professional. “How about no,” he says. “No cream cheese.”

“Cruel,” Mike says, but he loves this so much, breaking out of that world and back into the one where Jay can ask him for anything and get it. 

The scene they shoot after lunch is more of the same, with Jay in a different shirt and tie and Mike’s character getting a little rougher with his, more face fucking and nasty insults and testing to see if he can order poor Barney to come suck him off three times a day: before work, during his lunch break, and on his way home. 

“I dunno,” Jay says, eying Mike like he’s under a spell and he’s not sure he wants it broken. 

“You want to cut?” Mike asks, because they both know what’s next in the script. “Before I--”

“Nah, I’m good, just do it.” 

Mike makes his eyes scary, exhales once through his nose, and steps into forward to slap Jay in the face: not too hard but definitely real, and they can always tweak the ADR to make it sound meaner. Mike let Jay decide, and he didn’t want to do a stage slap. It’s not the same, and after this real one Jay is visibly stunned, or Barney is, his eyes shining with shock while Mike sneers at him. 

“Don’t talk back to me,” Mike says, measured and mellow, because though doing that made Mike’s heart pound, doing it to Barney has calmed Vince down. “This is for your own good. You’ll see, cockslut. You’ll thank me, just like you always do.” 

“I, I gotta go,” Jay says. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Fucking right you will. Get outta here.” 

They cut, then redo the last line because Mike crept a little too close to the corny, cartoonish voice Jay hates when he said those last three words. After a few more clean-up takes they wrap for the day, and Mike gives Jay the pitiful apology via love eyes that he’s been wanting to let loose since he slapped him, though Jay isn’t mad and has asked to be slapped like that just for fun before, when it was just the two of them and no cameras.

“Let me take you on a date,” Mike says, watching Jay undress once the other two have packed off for the day, having failed to convince Mike to go out for a drink with them. 

“Right now?” Jay says, sliding a t-shirt on over all that pale skin that Mike wants to get his hands on, though not here. 

“Yeah,” Mike says. “Why not? I know you’re hungry. You’re not eating enough.” 

“I feel like Barney needs to look a little underfed. It’s part of his patheticness, and his obsession with, you know, the one thing he does want to eat.”

Mike makes a face and Jay laughs. He lets Mike come close to examine his cheek, making sure he didn’t accidentally unleash the kind of slap that would leave a mark.

“It would be kinda hot if you had,” Jay says, because he knows what Mike is looking for. “I mean, for the film. Barney getting increasingly bruised-looking is pretty in line with his character’s journey.” 

“No,” Mike says, though he can’t tell Jay why, at least not yet. Lately he’s been entertaining a weird twist for the end of their movie. He’s not sure if it would work, or if Jay would even be willing to shoot it, anti-romance as he is. It would probably be impossible to make it even a little convincing, but Mike has fixated on the idea, at least as an alternate take. For now, though, he just wants to take Jay out for a meal and sit with his hand on Jay’s thigh under the table, if Jay will let him. 

They go to a place not far from Simon’s building, with fancy pizzas that cost twenty dollars and no table service. They order at the counter, and Mike lets Jay pick a white pizza, though it’s Mike’s least favorite kind. Their table is a cheap plastic thing outdoors, under an umbrella plastered with ads, and they both have draft beers in plastic cups. It’s a warm night out but not stifling like the past few days have been, with breeze from the nearby lakeshore. Mike lets Jay chatter away about his script ideas, the one he’s been working on and others he’s just considering, or considering scrapping. 

“It seems like you don’t write much anymore,” Jay says after Mike has been quiet for a while, content to admire him. 

“What are you talking about?” Mike says. “Are you unfamiliar with the American Buttholes series? Four plot-filled installments and climbing!”

“Ha ha. I’m being serious, Mike.” 

He is, and it’s too cute for Mike to really get mad at him. But he still gets a little mad. 

“Jay,” he says, tilting his head. “You always hated my writing.”

“What! No, I didn’t? Huh?”

“You always took over the stories and never wanted my input on your characters.” 

“I didn’t take over-- What! You’re the one who made Sid and Dex into a fucking love story from the get-go! I let you have that--”

“Right, you let me, but you hated it.”

“No! Well, I thought I would, but you were right, okay? Obviously! It was what held people’s interest. The character stuff, and-- You were right, Sid had to be-- Oh, jesus. How are you still so defensive about this?”

Mike just snorts and gnaws on a pizza crust. He thinks about that twist ending again, and how Jay will hate it. Or maybe not.

“Come home with me,” he says, though he knows Jay will reject him.

“No,” Jay says. He’s primly balling up napkins as he cleans the pizza residue from his hands for the fifth time since he finished his slices. “Sunday,” he says, and he only smiles when Mike gives him the psycho killer seductive stare. 

“Sunday,” Mike says, nodding slowly, his cock twitching against his fly. “And I’m not gonna go easy on you.”

“Good,” Jay says. He thumbs at his bottom lip and studies Mike, then checks over both of his shoulders for eavesdroppers. “I need it in some kind of way,” Jay says, lowering his head when his eyes lock on Mike’s again. “And easy ain’t it.”

“You’re really gonna send me home alone after saying that to me, Jay? Really?”

“Yes, really. Let’s go, I’m exhausted.” 

By me? Mike wants to ask, but he knows he shouldn’t show his insecure hand that openly, so he just nods and cleans up their garbage, carries the plastic tray to the trash bin. 

Jay is yawning in the passenger seat as they pull into the garage at Simon’s building. He lets Mike take his hand when they’ve parked, and tiredly watches as Mike rubs his thumb into the center of Jay’s palm, the way he used to love after a hard day’s work of camera-wrangling. 

“This is going really well,” Mike says, and immediately fears that saying so has jinxed it. 

“It is,” Jay says, watching Mike’s hand work on his. “Which is why I can’t invite you up.”

“I didn’t ask you to!”

“Yeah, but I want to.” Jay smiles sheepishly and extracts his hand from Mike’s. “But so far our strategy is working.”

“Strategy,” Mike says, still unable to believe him, after all these years. The dork, the control freak, the love of his fucking life. 

“Mhm-hmm. And tomorrow’s my day off. Gonna do some elaborate grooming stuff in Simon’s fancy master bathroom. Gotta get myself ready for-- Well. For you.”

“Jesus christ, Jay. Simon is still out of town, right?”

“No, I’ll be showering with him. Mike. You know he is. We built our shoot schedule around him being in town--”

“Yeah, yeah. I was joking. Kind of.”

Jay rolls his eyes, takes off his seatbelt and leans over to peck Mike on the cheek. 

“Today was good,” Jay says, leaning away when Mike tries for more. “I enjoy sucking your cock, sir.”

“Okay, now you’re just torturing me for fun.”

“I am, it’s true.” Jay grins and opens the car door, waves. “Better not text me tonight unless you want more where that came from.”

Mike sort of snarls at him. Jay laughs, leaves, walks away without looking back. 

When Mike gets home he checks his phone and his heart does a pitiful leaping thing when he sees a new text, because apparently he just needs Jay that bad, nonstop, but then he sees it’s from Rich. 

_I’m interpreting the lack of communication from you as a good sign. Accurate?_

Mike feels a little bad for not reaching out to Rich unless he’s in crisis, which has been a pattern in the past as well. He tries calling, and when Rich doesn’t answer he leaves a voicemail.

“Hey, man, sorry I haven’t kept you in the loop. Wasn’t sure if you wanted me to or not, but it’s good, yep, everything’s good here, we have the first two me and Jay scenes done as of today, so that’s a relief, and next week we’ll do the uh, you know, the climactic one and some filler with our guys, and then Simon’s back in town to shoot his final mundane scene and the big murder finale, after that it’s just a few more with me and Jay and whatever pickups we do-- Not sure why I’m giving you the full shoot schedule, but there it is. We’re both into the work, getting along fine, I’m in love with him and all that but what else is new. Hope you guys are enjoying your baseball. Call me when you get a chance and we’ll catch up.” 

He feels weird after he hangs up, not sure if it’s about not having spoken to Rich in a while or having said ‘I’m in love with him and all that’ so dismissively, as if it’s another sentiment that might jinx things for being spoken aloud. He tells himself he should instead be glad that now it’s official, on the record, as if Rich will someday submit this voicemail to the Library of Congress when Mike and Jay are proven to have not only the best but most well documented love story in the history of humankind.

He gets a text from Rich an hour later:

_thanks for the update, we’re about to hit Yellowstone, will call in a few days_

Mike realizes then why he felt strange about getting Rich’s voicemail: ever since he moved back to the midwest and his marriage fell apart, Rich has been his touchstone. Now Rich has a new person who’s his first priority, and so does Mike, but Mike’s is Jay, again, and he can’t count on that the way he could count on Rich always being there, before Rich got engaged and embarked on this new lifestyle of going on trips to national parks and ignoring Mike’s calls. 

Which feels too much like cold hard proof that Mike will be alone, really, in a way he hasn’t been before, if he comes to the end of this thing and Jay slips through his fingers. 

*

Saturday is endless and anxiety-filled. Mike tries to busy himself with work, but his current project is all Jay all the time, so it’s no distraction from his growing fear that he won’t be good at sex anymore when they’re undressed together here tomorrow. No texts come from Jay to interrupt this misery, and Mike tries to cheer himself up by picturing Jay grooming himself to perfection in Simon’s spa-like bathroom, but this only makes him worry he should be doing something to improve himself, too. Last time they fucked Mike was at least thirty pounds trimmer, less bald, more energetic. Blow jobs are one thing, but the kind of sex they’ll have tomorrow is another, and he’s pacing around talking himself out of calling Candy to ask her for belated sex critiques by nightfall. He only convinces himself that’s a bad idea when he considers that they were usually drunk when they had sex and she probably won’t recall any specific criticisms she might have otherwise had. 

He calls Jocelyn up instead, and unloads all of this on her while she listens, intercutting his angst with a few lawyerly sighs of either concern or disbelief.

“I know what you’re thinking,” Mike says.

“Do you?”

“When did I turn into such a nutcase? When’d I get so insecure? Well, I’ll tell you when. When he left me. And now it’s like there’s nothing he can say or do to convince me that it won’t happen again.” 

She’s quiet for a moment, and Mike hears himself breathing too hard, working himself up. 

“Can I say something harsh?” she asks. 

“Yeah, give it to me.” 

“Are you trying to find a way to sabotage this to protect yourself?”

“No? What? How would sabotaging things protect me?”

“So that you could say, ‘it ended because I fucked up’ instead of being left wondering what went wrong, like last time?”

“No! That’s not-- I’m not doing that.” 

“Okay. Well. By all accounts, he wants to have sex with you. And he’s following your lead on this movie project, which I told you would be emotionally difficult for you.”

“Yes, you told me, so what.” 

“So it’s like this can’t go well enough for you, Mike. You just said so yourself. Because you know deep down that it’s a bad idea.” 

“What’s a bad idea? I told you, it’s going well!” 

“Is it? You sound like a wreck. And you’re not even drinking, I can tell.” 

“Just-- Fine, okay, I’m scared and all that shit, but so what? It’s been worth it so far.” 

“Then I’m not sure what you want me to tell you.”

“I didn’t call for advice!” Mike realizes he needs to get off the phone, take a Xanax, and go to bed, but he’s probably going to avoid the Xanax, because he’s not sure it won’t make him have trouble getting it up tomorrow. That’s never been a problem before, but if it were to be, now, everything would feel ruined. “I just wanted a sympathetic ear,” Mike says when Jocelyn has been quiet for a while. 

“I think you would have called someone else if you really wanted that.” 

“Yeah, like who? Rich ran off into the sunset with his fiancee. I’m running out of people!”

“That’s flattering.”

“I don’t mean-- God, sorry! I just keep remembering what it was like to have all my eggs in the Jay basket. And then he smashed ‘em all. And he’s told me why, I guess, but I still don’t understand. I don’t understand him, Jo. I don’t even know why he does what I tell him to, or why he ever did.” 

“I think he just loves you.” 

“Yeah, well.” Mike should be comforted by that, and he knows why he isn’t. “I’m pretty sure he loved me even when he threw me in the garbage. But he still did it.” 

“He’s got a lot of problems, Mike.” 

“He-- What?”

“You know I’m right. And you can’t solve them by giving him everything he wants all the time. I think he wants you to tell him to stop when he goes too far. But you’ve never learned how to say no to him. And I don’t think he’d even admit this to himself, but it probably breaks his heart.” 

Mike is struck silent by this, though he wants to explain to her that Jay doesn’t want to be reined in or controlled, that Mike has tried that in more ways than she knows and only lost more of Jay in the process. 

“That’s fucked up,” Mike finally mutters. 

“Mhm,” Jocelyn says, not quite in agreement. “He’ll be okay. He’s a tough cookie. But I’ve never liked watching him rake you over the coals while he works through his shit. You’re so much softer than him. He doesn’t understand that. He’s like a kid who keeps breaking his favorite toy. Not on purpose, but. The way he likes to play is just too rough.” 

Mike’s state of mind is ten times worse after this phone call ends, but he doesn’t blame Jocelyn. He sort of knew he’d get the bitter truth if he called her. He likes torturing himself too much. Jay is part of that, maybe. 

He feels hungover when he wakes on Sunday morning, though he had nothing to drink the day before and didn’t even take a Xanax, wanting to do at least this much to prepare himself for Jay’s attentions. He wrenches himself out of bed and into the shower, almost wanting to laugh at how he’s psyched himself into having flu-like symptoms from the thought of being able to fuck Jay again, turning what should be unassailable goodness back around into bad, his personal cursed superpower. He washes himself and imagines what Jay might have done to himself the day before, probably while humming contentedly, unperturbed by all of this: waxing, trimming his beard, wringing out a few orgasms so he won’t come as soon as Mike’s cock pushes in. Because Jay would be embarrassed by that sort of thing, would find it too revealing of his desires, and god forbid he reveal himself to the person who is literally inside him. 

Mike realizes on the drive over to Simon’s that he’s still mad at Jay for what happened nine years ago and that it’s probably not going to go away until they really have it out. This hangs over him like a cloud until he sees Jay walking toward the car. He’s smiling, perfectly coiffed, wearing a tight t-shirt that Mike told him he looks hot in when they discussed wardrobe for the movie. As always, just the sight of him clears all the clouds Mike hoards around himself away. 

“It’s so awkward that you’re picking me up for this,” Jay says when he’s beside Mike in the passenger seat, smelling so good that it’s almost mean. “You sure you don’t want to do it at Simon’s place? We could sit in the hot tub after.”

Mike is already driving away, though the prospect of cuddling Jay in that hot tub while his come leaks out of Jay’s ass and into Simon’s chlorinated water is pretty good. 

“Nah,” he says, pulling out of the parking garage. “I want my bed to smell like you after you’re gone.” 

Jay looks at him like that was an odd thing to say. Maybe it’s the implication that Jay won’t just go back to Simon’s place when they’re done but will eventually be gone. 

“Oh no,” Jay says when Mike drives without speaking. “You’re in some kind of mood, huh?” 

“Sorry I have emotions. This is emotional, for me. What we’re about to do.” 

“Are you mad that I didn’t text you yesterday? I thought we agreed--”

“I’m not mad!” Mike says, very unconvincingly. “Or-- I am, but. Not about that.”

“What are you mad about, Mike? And why the hell is it important to bring it up now?” 

“I’m-- Never mind. You’re right. We’ll talk after. When you’re all fucked out and letting me hold you. ‘Cause I refuse to do this if you won’t let me hold you after.”

“Mike,” Jay says, so softly that Mike feels guilty for how he’s acting. This is another way Jay can flick his bad thoughts away in an instant: that snippy little voice suddenly going sweet.

Mike looks over at him, probably with something pathetic in his eyes, and Jay rests his hand on Mike’s thigh, rubbing him there. 

“Of course you can,” Jay says. He’s blushing now, finally. “I want that, too.” 

“But this is a rehearsal. Not a date. And I’m not supposed to push you, before we finish the shoot.”

He thinks of what Jocelyn said: you never tell him no, you’re probably breaking his heart.

“That’s not pushing,” Jay says, squeezing Mike’s thigh. “I wouldn’t want us to have the kind of sex that doesn’t end up like that. Not now, not-- Ever, really. Are you okay? What happened?”

“I’m okay,” Mike says. He puts his hand over Jay’s and wraps his fingers desperately around the warmth of him, clings. “Just nervous, I guess. That I won’t be as good as you remember, or something.” 

“Oh,” Jay says, with such genuine sympathy that Mike feels himself blushing. “Me too. I mean-- That I won’t be, for you.” 

“Jay!” Mike says, whirling to look at him. Jay laughs. His hand twitches in Mike’s grip, like it’s his impulse to pull back now. “You’ll be perfect,” Mike says, holding on. “Jesus, look at you. I can’t believe you’d worry about that.”

“Why do you act like I’m too good for you or something? I never was. God, that day, when you-- The first time-- I couldn’t fucking believe it. That you’d want me.” 

Mike pulls Jay’s hand up to his mouth and kisses his fingers. He feels like he could cry, can’t stop thinking about when he should have said ‘no.’ Not that day, certainly, the one Jay is referring to. Jocelyn wouldn’t understand. Nobody would, and not just because no one but Mike and Jay has ever seen the recording. 

They hold hands for the rest of the drive, like scared kids about to wander into a dangerous forest in a fairy tale, or a couple on prom night, nervous about being alone together at last and what will happen. Mike can tell Jay is just doing it to indulge and reassure him, that he’d rather not have Mike’s increasingly sweaty palm pressed against his, not because he doesn’t like touching Mike but because this kind of touching just don’t mean as much to him as it does to Mike and never will. He keeps hold anyway, for Mike’s sake, until they’re parked outside Mike’s building. 

“I cleaned up for you,” Mike says as they walk into his place, as if Jay won’t be able to tell. Mike had nothing to do the day before but worry himself into a frenzy and clean everything until it was as good as it would get. 

“What’s that smell?” Jay asked. “Did you make a cake?”

“No, jesus!” Mike says, as if that’s absurd, though now wishes that he had. “I, uh, made some hot cider, yesterday.”

“In the middle of summer?”

“I did it so the place would smell good, okay, Jay?”

“Okay.” 

Jay grins. He’s standing in the middle of the living room, close to the bedroom doorway. Mike is lingering by the kitchen, wondering if he should offer Jay a glass of the boozy cider that’s in a big pot inside his fridge. 

“Did you juice the apples yourself?” Jay asks. 

“Hell no, I just heated up two gallons of apple juice and threw in some cinnamon sticks and brandy. You want some?”

“Maybe later. C’mere.”

Mike walks toward him in a hopefully comical lumber, feeling scolded. He puts his hands on Jay’s cheeks when he gets there, tilts Jay’s head back so their eyes lock. Jay grabs Mike’s hips to pull him closer, so that Mike’s beer gut rests against Jay’s trim chest. 

“How would you like to do this?” Jay asks. 

“In my bed,” Mike says, and he slides his hands up into Jay’s hair, disordering it before they’ve even kissed. “And-- What time is it now?”

“Around noon, I think.” 

“Okay. I want to have sex with you for ten hours.”

Jay laughs hard and Mike does, too, though only for half a second before swooning in to kiss him. Jay kisses back like he always has, like he’s going to let Mike have everything without putting up a fight. What a liar, Mike thinks, backing him toward the bedroom while their mouths are still connected.

Mike wants to call Jay a genius for his hot tub stripping scheme that feels like another lifetime ago already. Still, it was so smart. Now that they’re undressing for this instead, it’s just another instance of seeing each other naked, not the first in all those years, so it’s okay-ish, even though Mike wants to hide under the blankets like a child. He’s hard, anyway, and being so much bigger and taller than Jay has always felt best when they’re both naked, even if part of the bigger is now Mike’s gut. 

“Do you want me to wear a condom?” Mike asks when Jay settles on his bed, scooting toward the wall. 

“Nah,” Jay says. 

“Then-- Should I come inside you, or--”

“Mike, you know what I like. It hasn’t changed. Come here, why are you so skittish?”

“Why do you think!” Mike says, nearly shouting, but he also hurries to obey, diving into Jay’s outstretched arms. 

Jay is warm and tiny like he always was, less tiny than those first few years but still a little pipsqueak compared to Mike. He makes soft noises when Mike kisses his throat, and grinds his chubby dick against Mike’s hip, then against his belly, hooking his leg over Mike’s side to get him closer. Mike tweaks Jay’s nipples and moans against his cheek when he shivers and presses his chest out for more. 

“I should punish you,” Mike says, murmuring this against Jay’s hot ear. “For making me go nine years without this.”

“Ha, well. You had others.” 

Mike almost says: and you didn’t? There was Simon, at least. Mike has pictured their hookup as a fully clothed situation, Simon on a nine thousand dollar chair and Jay on his knees between Simon’s legs, trying to convince himself that Simon’s dick felt big enough in his mouth. Mike bites at Jay’s shoulder and tells himself to stop thinking about it. 

“You can punish me,” Jay says when Mike presses him down to the bed and climbs on top of him. “I like it when you-- I’d still-- I’d always think of you as Sid, sorta, when you got rough with me. I’d think, Mike is letting himself be Sid.”

“And you liked it,” Mike says, uncertainly. He doesn’t say: because that meant you got to be Dex, weak and wibbling and all mine, the fatherless little dweeb who just wanted someone to pull him in out of the rain. The person you really were.

“Uh-huh,” Jay says. “But don’t be like that now. I’m, like. Very out of practice, uh. For real, Mike.” 

Mike knows what he means. He can’t imagine Jay even does much with shoving toys up his ass to get off, out of desperation. He’s got too much pride, takes himself too seriously. Even shopping online for a plastic dick would make him feel so exposed that he wouldn’t be able to enjoy it once he got it alone. It’s hilarious, considering what he does for a living. But that’s work, and being alone with what he really wants is different. 

“I’ll take my time,” Mike says, tickling his fingers over Jay’s chest. “I told you. Ten hours.” 

“Well, I don’t need _that_ much prep. But, yes. Some, please.”

Mike got special lube for this, a brand new bottle. He thinks of their virginity-taking instructional video when he reaches down between Jay’s legs with lube slicked fingers, kissing him again, stretched out facing him: _this posture allows for intimacy and reassurance during the initial penetration, which can feel awkward for both the virgin and the one who’s preparing him_. If he felt like being funny he’d say the narration out loud, and Jay would probably laugh, but Mike doesn’t want any part of this to feel like a joke. 

“Hmm,” Mike says, grinning when he feels between Jay’s ass cheeks. “Seems like you got a head start.” 

“In the shower,” Jay says, lifting one shoulder. His face is hot, and his ass is already a bit slick and softened up, already sucking Mike’s finger in greedily, clenching up around him as he pushes it in deeper. “I had to, ah. Get clean, so.” 

“Don’t lie,” Mike says, sweetly. He kisses the tip of Jay’s nose. “You did this as a contingency plan, didn’t you? In case we both lost our minds and fucked like maniacs as soon as we were through the door.”

Jay moans and doesn’t deny this, just wiggles his ass back and buries his face against Mike’s chest. He always loved this, how Mike would tease him with words while getting him so ready that he’d give in and beg. Mike has his other arm wrapped around Jay, too, Jay’s neck resting high on Mike’s bicep. Mike brushes his fingers down over the small of Jay’s back while fucking into him slow with just one finger on his other hand, feels his dick start to leak onto Jay’s belly. Jay is a little shaky, and when he pulls on Mike’s chest hair it hurts in an old familiar way that makes Mike’s eyes water, not from pain but from the memory of how Jay would do this when he felt himself floating, like he wanted Mike to pull him back from getting too lost. 

“Oh fuck,” Jay says, drooling when Mike presses at his prostate. “Oh fuck, fuck, it’s-- Nnh, yeah--”

“Long time since you had someone else touch you here, huh?”

“Shut up,” Jay mutters, thrashing once in Mike’s arms. “Shut _uhhh_ \-- And don’t stop. Fuck, yeah.”

He hides his face when he’s getting fingered, which he’s always done, unless Mike directed otherwise during a scene. Mike doesn’t mind, because if he nudges at Jay with his nose insistently enough Jay will lift his scrunched up face enough for a kiss, eyes closed. He’s still hiding while they kiss, mostly from the little noises he can’t help making and the way his mouth gets so fucking wet, eyes pinched shut tight. 

Mike was not exaggerating when he said he wants to do this all day. He was not being hyperbolic when he told Jay he’d never love anyone else, not one single time. He remembers, now, though he also never forgot: how good it is to be this close, and to know they’re about to get closer. This is just a different level of remembering.

“God, you get so sweet,” Mike says when Jay is a shaking mess against his chest, two of Mike’s fingers stuffed inside him and pumping, Jay doing everything he can to throw his hips back and make Mike go harder, faster, but otherwise not begging yet. “You still do,” Mike says, under his breath, because he’d worried Jay would be more guarded, or that he’d want to be touched differently, but this is just like it always was, down to Jay gnawing at his own knuckle, slobbering all over it. 

Jay looks like he’s going to cry when Mike slides his fingers out, which is a surprise. He wipes his mouth and rolls onto his back underneath Mike, drawing his legs up high. Mike thinks maybe he’s imagining it, but when Jay pushes out a tiny little ‘please’ his voice cracks.

Mike is so focused on how Jay is feeling that he forgets to brace himself for the full force of how good it feels to slide into him again, finally, after so long, and he feels a sob building in his chest for just the first two inches or so, and for the way Jay squeaks and grabs his arms. Then Jay squeezes up around him and groans from someplace deep in his chest that’s just been unlocked, and Mike lets the sob out: dryly, but also in a way that propels him deeper into Jay, probably too fast. He hears Jay whimper and pushes himself up onto his hands again, rubs their noses together and studies Jay’s eyes. 

“Mike,” Jay says, and they kiss while Mike plunges in deeper, no slower than that last sobbing thrust sent him. Jay doesn’t need to say more. Mike heard it, still speaks this language. That was Jay asking for what he gets, which is Mike as deep as he can go, pressed all the way into him. “Oh god,” Jay says, against Mike’s lips, his voice all broken up, and Mike knows that means thank you, yes, exactly right. 

For a while they just stay like that, buried together under the weight of being this close again. Mike’s eyes leak a little and Jay gets up onto his elbows with a grunt to lick at the corners for him. Jay has his legs hugged around Mike, heels digging in to keep him in place. He keeps squeezing up around Mike, groaning and throwing his head back, and then lunging forward to kiss him before doing it again. 

“Fucking fuck that’s so good,” he finally says, then moans and wipes at Mike’s stupid eyes with his fingertips. “Oh, come on now,” he says, soft. 

“Sorry,” Mike says. He clears his throat, grabs Jay’s hands and brings them both to his mouth for kissing. “God, that feels. That feels, so--”

“I know,” Jay says. He grins and flops down again, boneless, head lolling, with a dumb grin like he can’t believe his luck. “I’m gonna be sore. Already.”

“You look pretty happy about it.” 

Jay snickers, and it feels so good on Mike’s dick that he groans and almost starts crying for real, because he never stopped missing the way it feels when Jay laughs while Mike is inside him like this.

They draw it out for as long as they can, which is not very long at all. Jay comes almost as soon as Mike really starts fucking into him, with noisy slaps of his hips, and there’s little hope for Mike after he’s watched Jay spill all over himself for how much he loves that big dick slamming into him, still. Mike finishes with an almost mournful groan, arching away from Jay’s chest to work it in as deep as he can. 

Jay lets him stay inside for a while after. He lets Mike kiss him tiredly and make sad, sated noises against his lips. Eventually Jay starts up with his usual whining and wriggling and kisses Mike’s face before pushing him off and excusing himself to the restroom. Mike reaches for him but lets him go. Jay at least makes it quick, hurrying back to drop into Mike’s arms again. 

“All day long, Jay,” Mike says, sweeping Jay’s sweaty hair back while they share his pillow. “I mean it.” 

“You’ll break me,” Jay says, grinning. “Use me up completely. And then who’ll star in the movie?” 

“Fuck it, we could make a movie about this instead.” 

“This?”

Me cuddling you, Mike thinks, cinching his arm tighter around Jay’s back. People would watch it! Maybe fewer than the ones who want to watch them fucking again, but somebody would watch this and clutch their hands to their chest in glee, Mike is sure of it. 

“Never mind,” Mike says, nuzzling his face into Jay’s hair, eyes closed. “I won’t break you. I’ll be gentle. For the movie’s sake.” 

“Uh huh,” Jay says, petting him. “I don’t have any other plans today, so. Just don’t fall asleep.” 

“M’not,” Mike says, lying. “It’s just-- I slept so terrible last night. Maybe a little nap. Wake me up in ten minutes.”

“I could go get us something to eat?”

“Noo,” Mike says, holding him tight. “Don’t go anywhere. Not yet.”

Jay snorts like Mike is being ridiculous but also rolls against him and wraps both his arms around Mike’s neck. Mike falls asleep like he’s been on his feet for weeks, like Jay’s chest is the first pillow he’s had for as long as he can remember. 

He didn’t plan for sleeping together yet, and he thinks about this when Jay pets him awake, whispering that he’s hungry, asking if Mike has anything in his fridge. Mike lifts his face and opens his eyes to the sight of Jay’s, soft green in the way that they sometimes get. Jay will never admit it when Mike teases him about it, but he’s got color-changing eyes. They’re grey sometimes, or almost blue, and this shade of green has always been Mike’s favorite. It feels like something that comes out just for him, when they’re in bed together.

“Mike?” Jay says, poking him when he just lies there smiling stupidly and admiring Jay. 

“I have food,” Mike says. He made a fucking cider! Does Jay really think he didn’t also shop for enough snacks to keep them well fed while they have sex all day? “But first,” he says, rubbing his renewed erection on Jay’s leg. 

“Wow,” Jay says. “Did you take something?”

“No, Jay. I don’t need boner pills to pop one after the other for you. Have you learned nothing from my stamina on set?”

They have sex again, with Jay stradding Mike’s hips and riding his cock, his head thrown back in a way that makes Mike unable to keep his hand off of Jay’s throat, not squeezing but just holding him there, feeling Jay’s pounding pulse and flushed skin against his palm and getting off on this just as much as the way Jay grinds down onto his dick like a madman. This time they both last so long that Jay has jelly legs in the aftermath, his thighs trembling crazily when he collapses at Mike’s side. Mike feels newly worn out and sleepy, but he extracts himself from the bed to get Jay something to eat, first stopping into the bathroom to wash his hands and wipe Jay’s drying come off his chest. 

“So,” Jay says when they’re curled up in bed together after eating pinwheel sandwiches from the Pick N Save deli and fruit salad with big chunks of pineapple. “Want to tell me what you’re mad at me for, now?”

“I forgot,” Mike says. 

“Hmm,” Jay says. He quirks his mouth, knows Mike is lying. 

“It’s nothing,” Mike says, dragging his hand over his face. Why did he have to act like an overdramatic shit in the car on the way here? Now he’s got to deal with this instead of just staring in awed silence at Jay’s face until they fuck again. 

“Come on,” Jay says, scooting a little closer. He smells like the strawberries from the fruit salad, and ham and swiss from the pinwheels. He tugs on Mike’s ear, moving his fingers up to tap on the pointed end. “Don’t make me guess.” 

“Just-- Nothing. Just that you left me. Sometimes I still get mad about it.”

“Well.” Jay shifts and his nose twitches once, in the way Mike recognizes as a signal that he doesn’t like what Mike just said. “You’re the one who left. But I know--”

“Jesus christ, Jay, did you think I’d stay with you after you said that to me? That you woke up every day wishing I wasn’t there?”

“That’s not what I said!”

“Uhhhh?”

“I know, but-- I know it sounded that way-- Ugnh.” Jay holds his hand over his face. He’s still in Mike’s arms, not even tensing up while they talk about this, and maybe it’s good, but Mike wants to go back to kissing and acting like good sex will fix everything. “Okay,” Jay says, pulling his hand away to look at Mike again. “That’s fair. You can still be mad about that.” 

“Thanks for the permission.” 

“But how many times do you get to still be mean to me about it? Is there an upper limit, or are you randomly gonna decide to get pissed about that for the rest of our lives?”

Mike loses his voice at Jay saying _for the rest of our lives_. He sits up on his elbow and holds Jay’s face in his hand. 

“I’m done now,” Mike says, and he means it, even if he suspects it later won’t feel true. “Done being mad at you about that. As of this moment.”

“Okay,” Jay says, looking suspicious. “Then I guess I’m done hating you for marrying someone else.” 

“Ah. Jesus, Jay.” 

“What? Oh, god--”

Jay laughs when Mike kisses him, but he’s suddenly very red, like admitting that was also a big deal to him. It kills Mike to think about Jay hurting because of him, because it once seemed from afar like Mike had moved on, but it also feels so good to hear him say out loud that yeah it fucking hurt, of course it did. 

The rest of the day is perfect, so much better than Mike could have even imagined when he feared Jay would only fuck him in some clinical way, no kissing or cuddling or repeats after their first orgasms. Jay seems lazy with bliss, too, laughing at near everything Mike says and coming for him over and over, until he’s whining like it hurts to push out the few feeble drops that Mike squeezes from Jay’s dick while pounding into him a fourth time, close to pained with how many times he’s come already, too. It’s gotten dark outside, and they’ve eaten like pigs from Mike’s fridge throughout the day. There are crumbs and drips and the bed is disgusting, and when Jay sits up and sighs and says he should get going, Mike’s first grief-crazed thought is that it’s just because they messed up the sheets so bad. 

“Going where?” Mike says, attempting to laugh like Jay can’t be serious. Mike knows he can be, too well. “Jay, it’s after nine o’clock. Just stay over.” 

“Mhm, I can’t,” Jay says, and he slides out of the bed. Mike is too stunned by this bullshit to even grab for him. “We’ve got a lot of scenes to cover tomorrow, and I need to get some rest.”

“You can rest here,” Mike says, up on his elbow and feeling his face and tone slipping into real anger. Jay can flip him like a switch in this direction, too. “I’ll change the sheets.”

“Mike,” Jay says, whining, his back turned on the bed while he steps into his underwear. “No offense, but that’s, what? A double bed? I won’t be able to sleep as well here. Don’t take it personally, but me staying over was never part of our plan for today, and I’d like to sleep in my own bed tonight.” 

“Don’t take it personally?” Mike says, sitting up. He waits for Jay to turn and look at him, his t-shirt pulled on now. “How am I supposed to not take it personally that you’re telling me you don’t want to be with me like that anymore? That there’s always gonna be some weird ass excuse for why you have to run away?”

“You need to calm down,” Jay says, eyes hard. 

“You need to get back in my bed,” Mike says, remembering what Jocelyn said about telling Jay no. This has to be one of the times when he should. It’s late, they’re both exhausted, and the bed may not be a California king but they both fucking fit in it. 

“Are you actually being serious?” Jay says, pausing to boggle at Mike with his jeans half pulled up. “Mike-- This was our rehearsal fuck, remember? I’m not just gonna move in with you now.” 

“Well. I’m not driving you home.” Mike scoffs when he hears himself calling Simon’s place Jay’s home. But Jay just referred to his room there as his own bed. “That’s absurd.” 

“Wow, really?” Jay says, almost shouting, his eyes bright with fury, maybe also shock. “Okay,” he says, nodding as he zips up his jeans. “Cool, that’s great. I’ll just call an Uber. Maybe my stalker will be the one driving, you never know! That’d be my fucking luck, but hey. You don’t feel like getting out of bed, so I guess I’ll just--”

“It’s not about getting out of bed!” Mike says, doing so to prove a point. As soon as he’s standing he feels stupidly naked and gropes for his boxers, holding them over his dick. “It’s about your-- Issues! With this shit!”

“What shit,” Jay says, eyes cold.

“Intimacy. Making weird rules and then acting like I’m the one who’s insane. Telling me you’d never want to live here with me, because you’ve got Simon to run back to, so why bother?”

“Don’t even fucking pretend you’re jealous of Simon!”

“What are you doing?” Mike asks, because Jay has his phone out now and he’s typing something. 

“Calling an Uber,” Jay says. “You fucking asshole.”

“Hey! No! Jay, goddammit. I’ll drive you home, you infuriating fuck. Don’t call an Uber--”

“No. I’d rather take my chances with a stranger than be with you while you’re like this.” 

“Stop!” Mike says, snatching the phone out of Jay’s hands. 

Jay glares at him. He’s breathing hard and looks so tired. Why is this happening? Mike wants to cry again, but he can feel that there’s no hint of this on his face, his eyes hard and mean to match Jay’s. 

“No,” Mike says. “Be mad at me if you want. Run away if you have to. But I’m driving you. Don’t fucking argue with me about that.” 

Jay huffs and grabs his phone back but doesn’t call for an Uber. Mike realizes on the horrible, silent drive back to Simon’s building that this was the right time to say no, and that before was a misstep. He wants to apologize but he’s also furious. So his double bed is too small, because it makes them too close. So Jay thinks he’ll sleep better without Mike. The opposite is true for Mike, and that’s what he’s really mad about. He’s always going to be the one who loves this a little bit more. It’s torture, and not the kind he likes. 

“Hey,” Jay says, smacking Mike’s arm when they’re parked in the garage, to get Mike to finally look over at him. “You’re psychotic, you know that?”

“You are,” Mike mutters. “You could have just slept in my bed.” 

“Yeah, and I’d be hot and uncomfortable and cranky in the morning. But you’re right, it just means I don’t care about you, Mike. That’s all it could mean that I want to sleep alone.” 

Mike opens his mouth to apologize, but if he really explains himself he’ll have to tell Jay what Jocelyn said, and why he felt like he had to finally put his foot down about something. He has a feeling Jay wouldn’t take that well. 

“Just go,” Mike says, waving his hand toward the building. “I’ll pick you up tomorrow.” 

Jay seems like he wants to say more, too, but he just scoffs and goes. Mike watches him, leaning forward to put his cheek on the steering wheel. He’s got to learn how to pick his battles. He just doesn’t want to be at war anymore. Fucking all day long felt like a peace treaty, until it didn’t. 

Mike buys a six pack on the way home and drinks four beers in front of the TV, in and out of sleep on the couch. He knows he’ll feel like shit tomorrow and act like an asshole on set because of his hangover, his heartbreak, and the fact that he’s too hurt to strip the bed and sleep there. He passes out on the couch for good around three in the morning, which will fuck up his back. Good, whatever, fine. 

He wakes up to a text from Jay.

_You don’t have to pick me up this morning. Having breakfast with Josh and he’ll drop me off at the studio after_

Mike sends back, _so you’re still mad_

Jay doesn’t reply for a while. Mike is heading for his car to drive to the studio when Jay’s text finally comes. 

_I realized that I needed to spend some time with somebody who isn’t you or Simon. You’re both driving me out of my mind at this point_

“Oh, so I’m on the same level as that shitheel now?” Mike says, shouting this at the phone instead of texting it. A woman who is passing by with her kids on the way to the apartment complex’s pool stops to stare at him, then hurries her children away. 

Mike is livid by the time he gets to the studio, and determined not to let it show except through Vince. He fails at this immediately and is rude to Josh, who leaves quickly after dropping Jay off. Mike addresses Jay and the assembled crew, informing them as a group that there’s been some changes to the shooting schedule. He decided on the way over, and pretends not to feel Jay staring at him like he both wants to ask Mike for a private conference and like he doesn’t want to give him the satisfaction of asking for anything right now. 

“For continuity purposes, we’re going to shift the anal scene to next week,” Mike says.

“Continuity purposes,” Dima repeats, clearly sensing a whiff of drama in the air and wanting to track its source. 

“Yeah, ‘cause they fuck in Simon’s office after Vince kills him, so the blood splatter needs to be consistent.”

“So we’re going to shoot that scene with Simon on set,” Jay says, incredulous. “Wow, Mike.” 

“Simon can of course leave the set after we get his death scene shot, Jay. But we need to shoot what follows after we’ve wrecked that set with fake blood.” 

Actually, he’s decided that scene doesn’t take place at all. The murder will still happen, but for different reasons, and Vince will fuck Barney at a different time, in a different location. Mike spent the morning rewriting the script. He’ll tell Jay later. The scenes they’ll shoot together today are the same. 

Everyone is tense for the rest of the morning, but Jay and Mike being pissed off at each other works just fine in their scenes as Barney and Vince. Mike almost cuts to say Barney needs to give Vince less attitude, then just uses it as an excuse to escalate Vince’s snarling meanness. 

Jay goes out for lunch with Dima and the camera guy. Mike is very clearly not invited. He forces a microwaved burrito down in the break room, alone, and laughs bitterly when his phone rings. Gil is calling. 

“What?” Mike says, punching on speakerphone so he can continue miserably consuming the burrito. 

“Heyyy, buddy,” Gil says, in a way that Mike can tell means bad news. “How’s everything going?”

“Fine,” Mike says, tightly enough to communicate that it’s actually not, suddenly. “What do you need?”

“Ohhhh, just. A little note from the studio. Some info, um. I’m afraid the pre-sales of the movie haven’t exactly been as spectacular as we all expected. Which is no big deal! No worries, really, I know this thing is going to make waves once we have previews to show. But, as we don’t have that, yet, I was thinking-- We need to get a little more creative and aggressive with our promos.” 

“Isn’t that your job?”

“Sure, sure, I can throw out some suggestions, I have a few--” 

“Can’t you bother Jay about this? He’s the one with the channel and the livestreams. Tell him to shake his ass on camera. I’m sure he’ll hop to it. He needs this to be financially successful more than I do.”

Gil is actually speechless for a moment after that, which may be a lifetime first for him. 

“Okayyy,” Gil finally says, slowly, while listening to Mike chew his food. “Is Jay, uh. Not there with you, right now?”

“No, he’s on break. Call him about this. I’m sure he’d love to hear your ideas.”

Mike hangs up. Now he’s being fully unprofessional, but he can’t get Jay’s text message from earlier out of his head, how Jay equated Mike’s heartache to Simon pestering him for attention in whatever way that’s apparently still happening. Mike should never have gotten cocky enough to think Simon wasn’t real competition. How could he not be? Jay would rather be alone in Simon’s penthouse than curled up in Mike’s arms. What’s Mike supposed to take away from knowing that?

“He’s mad at you,” Dima says when they’re setting up for the next scene after lunch, Jay tucked away in the men’s room while he dresses for it. 

“I know,” Mike says, trying to ignore Dima in favor of the secretly rewritten script that he’s paging through. 

“What did you do?” 

“I’m not discussing this with you. Wait-- What did he say?”

Dima just smirks. Jay emerges from the men’s room before Dima can say anything else, and Mike waves him away, not trusting him to relay whatever Jay said accurately anyway. 

Mike unleashes the worst of the script’s dirty talk in the scene they shoot next. Vince says he should take Barney home and chain him up, just feed him come in the morning before work and again when he gets home, let him live like that, like a brainless comedump.

Really Vince is thinking about taking this fucked up person home to his bed. He’s thinking, why are you like this? Why are you giving me this part of you over and over and then going away like it means nothing? 

“You good?” Mike asks after he’s come on Jay’s face and cut the scene, Dima bringing over the roll of paper towels. 

“Yes,” Jay says, snatching them. “Thanks.” 

“Great scene,” Dima says, patting Jay’s shoulder like they’re friends now. Jay lets Dima take his hand and help him to his feet while Mike stands watching, his dick still hanging out of his jeans. “Boss,” Dima says, pointing to it. “Your cock’s out.”

“Yes, thank you.” Mike zips up and turns away from them, the rage that’s powered him through the work day mellowing into depressed resignation. “Did Gil call you?” he asks, turning back to Jay, who is chugging water from a bottle that the camera guy brought him. Everyone’s been extra nice to Jay all day, as if Mike must be the one who’s in the wrong, not the sweet sunshine star of the show. 

“Uhh, lemme see,” Jay says, digging his phone out. “Oh, yeah, he did.” 

“You should call him back. He wants to talk about promo stuff.”

Jay looks up at Mike with confusion. “Just with me?”

“I just told him you’re better at it. Pre-sales aren’t great, so. Better start shilling.” 

Jay frowns and Mike goes to get a bottle of water for himself, wondering if Jay will even let him drive him to Simon’s place. Maybe he’s enlisted Dima as a new personal driver already.

But the others pack up and go as usual, with Jay lingering at Mike’s computer up in the office, doing a video call with Gil about promo ideas. Mike comes into the doorway after they’ve hung up, finds Jay clicking around in his files. 

“What are you doing?” Mike asks.

“Looking for old stuff to share on my site,” Jay says, without turning. “Feel free to offer your input, if you give a shit.” 

“I trust your judgment,” Mike says. It’s true, and he’s tired. “Sorry I was in a shitty mood today,” he says when Jay finally looks at him. “I’m sure you can imagine why.”

“Look, it just reinforces my original plan,” Jay says, standing from Mike’s desk chair to cross his arms over his chest. “We got a little-- Whatever, yesterday. And it makes the work harder, when we get messy like that.”

“Messy,” Mike says.

“Sorry if you don’t like my word choice!” Jay says, shouting. He uncrosses his arms and balls his fists up at his sides. “Just take me home so I can spend all night promoting this movie.”

“I could help--”

“No, I want to do this myself. I feel like working all night, actually. That sounds great right now.”

Jay looks furious so Mike doesn’t push him. They’re quiet again on the drive to Simon’s place, and Jay stares out the passenger side window like a petulant kid the whole time. 

“I’m sorry,” Mike says again when they’re parked in the garage. “You’re right, okay? You’re right. We should have been, like. Stricter. I shouldn’t have gotten greedy. I always liked waking up next to you, is the thing. That’s why what you said still makes me mad sometimes. Because it makes me feel like a dope, for liking this thing you hated.”

“You know I didn’t hate it,” Jay says. “God. Do you know much I wish I hadn’t said that? But I wanted to change some things, about myself. I needed to, or I was never gonna stop feeling miserable. And I couldn’t do it with you there, because you loved me the way I was.”

“Sorry about that,” Mike says, bitterly. 

Jay turns from the window and stares at Mike, shaking his head. 

“We did exactly what we said we wouldn’t,” Jay says. “We let shit get too intense and now it’s gonna affect the production.”

“God forbid.”

“Mike-- Jesus! I’ll see you tomorrow!”

“Yeah. Bye.”

Jay slams the car door and hurries away. Mike doesn’t feel that bad about things as he drives off. Could have been worse, he thinks, and if they’re fighting for the rest of the production, at least it’s coming from a heated place. The worst Jay could do to him right now is go cold. 

At home, he has a beer and pan fries a porkchop. He’s getting ready to settle in with his dinner and watch some TV when his phone buzzes with a notification: Jay will be livestreaming in an hour. Mike has finally subscribed to his channel under his real name, so he gets these alerts directly. 

He clicks on the update Jay posted. It’s just a text post about his upcoming livestream, but it says he’ll have a special guest. 

Mike’s heart beats faster. What special guest. What the fuck?

He thinks of texting Jay about this, then just feels too pathetic, also guilty, since he sneered that Jay should handle the promo. He tries to concentrate on the dumb show he’s watching, but he can’t even taste his food, consumed entirely with anticipating the start of this livestream, his eyes flicking again and again to the clock on his stereo. 

He opens a second beer when he sits down to watch the livestream. There’s little chance that the special guest will be anyone other than Simon himself, but it’s still a shock when Simon’s friendly, smiling face appears on the screen beside Jay’s. They’re not in the same room. Simon is broadcasting from L.A. 

Mike is still pissed about this, blindsided. It feels like a deliberate attack on him. He tells himself to relax, in Jay’s voice: _you need to calm down_.

He checks Simon’s social media and sees he’s advertised this livestream, too. Simon has a lot of followers, and the viewer count soars as Simon and Jay chirp back and forth at each other about the movie and working together like this for the first time, both of them laughing and blushy. 

“I started out just awful,” Simon says. “But Jay is a great scene partner.” 

“That’s one way of saying I give good head,” Jay says, and only then does Mike realize Jay probably had a few drinks before this, or more than a few. Simon laughs but looks a little nervous, suddenly, too.

“Ah, well,” he says. “That’s-- But really, you’re doing some great character work. It’s mesmerizing.” 

Jay laughs in a little scoff, dismissive. 

“How much did you and Mike collaborate on the script?” Simon asks, gamely changing the subject. 

“We wrote the entire thing together,” Jay says, brightening a little.

Mike tugs on his collar, thinking of the changes he made. Well. Jay will understand, maybe. 

“I remember you guys in college,” Simon says, shaking his head. “You had this energy together, everybody wanted to work with you. But nobody really got into that inner circle.” 

“Well,” Jay says. He looks flustered, and then annoyed, like maybe Simon wasn’t supposed to mention Mike too much. “We worked with lots of people.”

“Right, but you weren’t writing scripts with anybody but each other. I’ve gotten to see how you guys work together, a bit, now, and it’s really fascinating. It’s like, organic. Like kids making up a game together in a collaborative way, but it’s also this piece of art that comes to life when you’re performing it.” 

“You make us sound very high brow,” Jay says. 

“Ah, well, what’s that even mean? You put your hearts into it, and that’s real art, making something heartfelt. In my opinion.”

Jay’s eyes sparkle, either for the viewing audience’s enjoyment or for Simon, who takes such good care of Jay’s bruised ego, handles him so gently and has so much to give, in multiple ways. Mike can’t stand to watch anymore. He shuts it off and gets in bed. He’s washed the sheets, but not the pillowcase, which still holds the scent of Jay’s hair gel. 

The next few days remain tense on set, but they get through it. Simon will return over the weekend, and when they shoot with him next week Mike will have to reveal that he wants to significantly change the ending of the film. He’s cagey in the meantime, looking away if Jay tries to hold his gaze for too long, unless they’re being Barney and Vince. Mike lets his eyes bore all the way into Jay’s during their scenes together, and when Jay looks up at him with shimmery fear in his eyes Mike tells himself it’s just the character, just acting. 

By Friday Mike is looking forward to having a break from all this, even if it means being away from Jay and missing him, especially on Sunday. But they can’t do a repeat of last Sunday, or even a chaste little date. Clearly they both can’t handle it yet, in their different ways. Mike tells himself the time will come when they can and swallows a lot on the drive to Simon’s building, not even sure what he’s choking down, exactly. 

“What a week,” Mike says flatly when Jay gets in his car. 

“Simon gets back on Sunday,” Jay says, as if this will be an improvement over the recent miserable days Mike is referring to. 

“Want me to pick him up at the airport?”

“That’s okay. He can get a car.” 

They say nothing for a while. Jay plays with his phone and pretends not to notice Mike looking at him. Mike thinks of dropping the bombshell about the changed ending now, but fuck it. He can wait till Monday. A couple of days apart might do them both some good.

“Gil is texting me all kinds of crazy ideas,” Jay says. “Sales are still-- I don’t know what he expected.” 

“We’ll figure it out,” Mike says.

“We?” Jay says, sharply. “I thought it was my job.”

“I just said-- I trust you with it, if you want--”

Mike trails off there, not wanting to get into a real fight. Jay seems worse than he has on other days this week, curled in on himself and pressed to the passenger side door like he’s afraid Mike is going to hit him. 

“I can turn the car around,” Mike says. “We have pickup days built in, if you need a day off.” 

“I’m fine,” Jay says. “Today’s easy, anyway.”

He means they aren’t shooting any sex scenes. Mike nods to himself, also relieved about this.

“I’m thinking of buying a car,” Jay says. 

“Yeah?” Mike says, not sure what Jay wants to hear from him on this subject. “You want me to go to the lot with you?”

“What?”

“The car lot, whenever you go. I know how to handle salesmen. And you’re gonna laugh, but being big and tall and older-looking helps, when you’re haggling with them.” 

“Whatever you say, Mike.” 

Mike wants to apologize, but then he thinks: for what? He’s not trying to insult Jay’s size or blond youthfulness. Jay knows he loves those things. 

The only others at the studio today are Mike’s camera guy and Rocky, who is there to help with audio capture and to shoot a short scene where Jay chickens out of sucking him off, to be inserted earlier in the film. Mike has them rehearse a little, because Rocky seems nervous, and Jay is supposed to be the nervous one in this scene, while Rocky represents the intimidating pleasure of dick sucking that Barney isn’t quite ready to give in to, in this scene. 

Mike feels his phone buzz in his pocket and digs it out. He’s glad to see it’s a message from Rich, until he reads it. 

_you released that old video????????????????_

Mike looks up at Jay, remembering what he said in the car, the way his voice shook a little. 

But-- No. No way.

He replies: _what video?_

Rich’s response comes quickly.

_Uhhhhhhh. Check your fan forum._

He means the one that he usually moderates, on the Manhole Entertainment website. Mike said he would take care of the mod duties while Rich was out of town, but he hasn’t really paid it much attention. 

“Where are you going?” Jay asks when he sees Mike heading upstairs. He seems nervous, too, Mike thinks. Has since he got in the car that morning.

“Gotta check something,” Mike says, his vision already tunneling because he feels like he knows what he’s about to find. 

He falls into his desk chair and opens his browser, goes to the fan forum. The first ten threads under General Discussion are all about the same thing, hundreds of comments in the top thread, posted just a few hours ago and titled HOLY GRAIL VIRGINITY VIDEO!?!???!?

Mike opens the thread and clicks a link in the first post, accompanied by a message that says _pretty sure this is really it wow_. The link opens a download from a third party site, and it loads quickly. Mike reads a few messages on the thread before opening the video.

_OH MY GOD IT’S POTATO QUALITY BUT IT’S MAGIC_

_Mike rides Jay’s dick?????????? That’s it?? ???????????!?!??_

_What if this is the kind of awkward dork sex they always had off camera lol_

_I’M COMBUSTING WHY IS THIS SO FUNNY RN LMAO_

“Mike?” Jay says from the office doorway, when Mike is in the middle of watching the video to make sure it’s the real, actual video of their first time, every sacred detail that he’s long had memorized playing out onscreen, winding out the narrative that only the two of them have ever known, until now. “What the hell?” Jay says, coming up behind him. “What are you doing?”

“Don’t you know?” Mike says, hollowed out and unable to move, unable to take his eyes off this video as he imagines hundreds, thousands of people spreading it around. Two hours is long enough to never get it wiped off the internet. People will have made copies that can’t be clawed back, and these will pop up like mushrooms wherever the gossipy conditions are right. But that’s not even what matters or hurts about this. Not even close. Mike stands and stares at Jay, who has the nerve to look confused. 

He’s a good actor, and he’s certainly pretended for Mike before, then flipped the script. 

“What?” Jay says. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“You leaked it,” Mike says, making himself stay back, wanting to shove Jay even further away from him. “That video. You put it online.”

“What?” Jay cranes his neck to see Mike’s computer screen and scoffs, shakes his head. “No, I didn’t.” 

“Only you and I have copies. I didn’t put it online, Jay. That means you did. Don’t fucking lie to me. Did Gil talk you into it? Did he convince you this was gonna help make you more money? Or is this just another way for you to blow everything up so you can make a clean getaway?”

“That’s online?” Jay says, pointing at Mike’s computer. The color drains from his face. Mike’s gut drops. “That video? No-- When-- You think I did it?”

“It was either you or Simon. Does he use your laptop? When he’s reading your scripts?”

Jay just stares at Mike, still so pale. Then the color comes back to his cheeks in a flooding bloom that looks painful, and the corners of his eyes get angry pink, too.

“Fuck this,” Jay says, sounding as hollowed out as Mike feels, his words echoing from some now empty place. “You’re a lunatic and I’m done.” 

Mike watches him leave the office. He feels like the ghost of himself, like seeing the video online killed some part of him that would only stay alive if he had that one secret piece of Jay just for himself. He moves, ghost-like, through the open office door and out to the landing, watching Jay dash down the stairs into the studio and across the warehouse floor, bolting outside like the building is on fire. 

“Go after him,” Mike says to Rocky when he looks up with confusion. “Drive him home.”

“Home? Are we--”

“We’re done for the day,” Mike says. “Maybe for good.”

“Boss--”

“Quit calling me that! Just do what I told you to, hurry!”

Mike goes into his office and paces, trying to tell himself he believes Jay, that he didn’t do this, but Jay was right to call Mike a lunatic for suggesting Simon might be behind it. Jay is the more likely culprit. Jay who always flung little bits of their personal lives into the water like chum and then scoffed when people were greedy for more. Jay who needs the money. Jay who plays soft so convincingly and then snaps it off when he’s done pretending. 

Rich is calling, then Gil is. Mike turns off his phone and sinks onto his knees on the floor in the middle of his office, listening to the quiet from the studio floor below, just the scrape of his camera guy’s shoes in the distance. He thinks of all their fans hollering with laughter and maybe jerking off after watching that video. He’s not even sure why he feels so robbed, like his whole bright future just got snatched out of his hands. It’s just another one of their videos after all. It being online seems to prove that, as if something actually sacred would have vanished if someone who wasn’t them tried to watch it. Jay played all of this out on camera to keep it from getting too real, and it worked. Mike once had some of him, but never had all of him. Now he’s got nothing but a twist ending he didn’t see coming, not even the one he had planned. 

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A somewhat upbeat song that is nevertheless the theme song for this chapter: [Favorite Liar](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BoLg6XqtyFs)
> 
> and then a dark one!! which is also kinda upbeat in a way: [Cruel World](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pmb1dDB2tak)
> 
> More coming soon, this chapter's a sort of cliffhangerish thing so I don't want to leave it for long ... !


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hrghhghhhh no matter what I can only write one chapter of this story a month, but I'm glad in the end, because I needed to think about this a lot to get it right. This is the chapter I've been most excited to post since I came up with the idea and I'm so giddy to finally have it done, and glad I didn't rush it ~~ and thank you again to everyone for the feedback on the last one, reading your reactions made me so happy <3 <3 
> 
> Only one more chapter after this!! Which will be epilogue-like in nature. This story has been a ~journey, and people's enthusiasm and interest has meant a lot along the way, thank you again. 
> 
> *

Mike hasn’t read user reviews or forum posts about his work in years, but he stays up all night after their first time video leaks and reads everything he can find. He even installs a chat app so he can see what people in their small but active unofficial fan club are saying about it live. He responds to some of the messages, because he knew better than to get trashed like he wanted to after getting home from the studio, and he’s coherent enough to pretend to be some random consumer of the latest unauthorized MikeNJay release.

Around sunrise, when the chat has quieted down to just a few messages every ten minutes or so, someone says they don’t mean to be a downer but they can’t believe that was the video they’d been so curious about for so long: just a flat shot of the two of them on the couch, Jay lying there like a dead fish while Mike bounced on top of him, the kissing barely visible and the love confession he’d imagined not captured on film. 

_I know right_ , Mike replies, his eyes filling with tears for the third time since he started torturing himself by tracking down everything that’s being said about the video, in an attempt to figure out how it leaked that’s yielded nothing but misery. _Makes me wonder if they were ever even in love._

_Why the hell would you wonder that_ , someone instantly replies. 

_Yeah_ , the initial complainer says. _I just meant it wasn’t that hot._

_I don’t think they’re really back together_ , Mike continues, delirious enough after a night without sleep that he might as well be drunk and knows he should log off, even if he’s only posting this as a random asshole whom the other random assholes will easily dismiss. _It’s just some lame publicity stunt for money_.

 _Then why are you here_ , someone asks, followed by a couple of condescending emojis that are astonishingly effective in making Mike feel like shit. 

_Sue me if I miss the old days_ , Mike sends. _The Sid and Dex stuff. They peaked with that._

 _lol that’s such a dumb oversimplication_ , someone says. _like are you new? Are you some frat bro who thinks their stuff is lame for not having more hardcore scenes? Cause that’s what you sound like_

Everyone in the chat replies to this statement by showering it with approving red hearts, and Mike finally logs off, feeling newly defeated. 

He sleeps at some point, on his back, waking himself up periodically with choking snores before settling miserably back into his exhaustion. He has no reason to get up at any particular time, the rest of the shoot having presumably been canceled by Jay’s resignation. Even if he tries to come back for financial reasons, Mike is done, too, after what just went down. He’s even more done than Jay. 

He hasn’t returned any of Gil’s calls, hasn’t even answered Rich’s texts. He dreams several times that Jay knifes him in his office at the studio, and wakes up feeling like it’s true. He rubs his hand over his chest, looking for wounds. 

He knows he’s the one who fucked up, at least in part, for accusing Jay of leaking that video. Jay couldn’t have done it, wouldn’t have; he’s the one who looks way too vulnerable to be seen by the world in that thing, in a way that he never has in any other video, and of course the people who’ve been slobbering to see it aren’t even impressed, which makes it all doubly devastating. But who else, how else? Mike knows he didn’t leak it himself by accident in some fumbling old man way. He’s never let anyone touch his home computer, in part because his copy of the video exists on there, alongside the old vacation pictures and all the rest of his sordid Jay-once-loved-me museum for one. He can’t imagine anyone having access to Jay’s computer, aside from maybe Simon, who Mike has to admit would never do this for any reason. 

Lance, he thinks, sitting up in bed. It doesn’t exactly make sense, because they never showed Lance the video. At least, Mike didn’t. But it’s the best idea he’s had since spiralling toward the worst case scenario and accusing Jay, and he’s already getting dressed, checking his phone for the time, hoping Lance is on shift today at the boat dealership. He has no other way of getting Lance’s contact info except through Jay, which isn’t happening. Mike feels already like they’ll never speak again, like he blew his chance, and like he should be relieved that he’s even still standing after getting dumped by Jay a second time, but he also feels like if he gets to the bottom of this mystery he’ll have some kind of awful closure, if not a way to apologize and grovel and probably just get kicked in the chin by Jay again.

The dealership where Lance works is a combo sales floor and marina called Skipper Slim’s. Lance is married to the original Slim’s son, who goes by Slim Jr. in the company’s local TV commercials. His actual name, even more absurdly, is Pete Peterson, and he co-owns the place with his semi-retired father. Back in college, one of the reasons Mike and Jay had bonded with Lance to the degree that they did was they were all varying degrees of fatherless, their dads floating around somewhere but not especially interested in the fact that they’d had these particular sons, even if they went on to have other sons whom they more convincingly cared about, in both Jay’s and Lance’s case. Mike was less hard up or even interested in what his father thought about him in the first place, but he understood where they were coming from. He wonders if Jay feels as weirdly betrayed as he does that Lance married into such a father-lead family brand and went on to have two kids who are now supported by the whole patrilineal enterprise alongside Lance himself. 

Mike walks in to the sparkling spread of the dealership telling himself not to be presumptively angry. It’s a very long shot that Lance had anything to do with this, though he’s bitter that the videos he’s featured in never came down and potentially newly bitter that Mike and Jay will be selling them. Jay claims he’s resigned to accepting royalties and has made peace with the whole thing, but what the hell does Jay know.

He scans the sales floor, which is empty of other customers except for one stout old man with a bushy grey mustache who’s studying parts in the supply section of the store. Most of the sales floor is occupied by a large desk where rentals and purchases are arranged and a shiny little speedboat displayed on a stage-like platform near the big windows that face the lake and the marina. Mike goes to the counter, his heart pumping fast at the thought of talking to Lance for the first time in a decade. The last thing Lance said to him that wasn’t communicated through a lawyer was _what happened??_ , via text, regarding Jay. 

Mike did not reply. He supposes he’s here to explain, finally, if Lance is interested. He needs to talk to someone, and everyone else he knows will just tell him it’s his fault and that he needs to apologize. He doesn’t want to hear that right now, with their first time tape circulating out in the world and everything else wrecked.

“Can I help you?” Lance asks when he pops out from the back room, rubbing what looks like a napkin between his hands. When he gets closer Mike sees it’s actually a wet wipe, and he smiles as kindly as he can when he sees Lance recognize him. “Oh shit,” Lance says, and he grins, which is better than Mike expected or probably deserves. “Mike. Holy cow. It’s you.”

“It’s me,” Mike says, not sure he’s ever felt less glad about this. 

“How’s it going, man?” Lance asks, coming around the counter. Mike hopes he won’t try for a hug. He can’t believe he let this guy fuck him once. Lance hasn’t aged well in the hairline or weight sense, but neither has Mike, and like Mike he otherwise still looks pretty good for his age, and his big eyes are still disturbingly earnest. When he reaches Mike he puts out his hand and claps Mike’s hard when he he offers it, smacking his other hand overtop Mike’s in a hug-like way. “Here to buy a boat?” he says, still smiling. 

“Not exactly,” Mike says. “Though anything could happen.” 

“Jay told me you guys are working together again, making something new? That’s wild. What a trip, I bet.” 

“Mhm.” Mike looks around. The old man with the mustache has disappeared. This feels like a bad sign, like all the townsfolk suddenly ducking indoors right before a gun fight in the center of an old West settlement. 

“He told me you guys are releasing the old stuff, too,” Lance says, crossing his arms over his chest. He’s wearing a navy polo that has SKIPPER SLIM’S stitched over the left breast pocket in white lettering. “There’s still a market for that, huh?”

“Sort of,” Mike says. “Um. Do you have a second, like. To talk?”

“Sure, I could take a break. Everything okay?”

“Yeah,” Mike says, because it is, for Lance. This won’t change anything about his sunny life, whatever his answer to Mike’s question is.

Lance gets a coworker to cover the counter and strolls outside with Mike. The weather is beautiful in a way that feels like a too-obvious joke, and Mike wonders if Lance has noticed that he looks like shit after that sleepless night. Probably, and it’s possible he’s gloating over it a little. Mike wouldn’t blame him. Their last few interactions were pretty unfriendly even before Jay blasted Mike’s whole world apart, and Mike was always short with him on set, always treated him like hired help because that’s what he was. 

“I guess you’re okay with us releasing the old material?” Mike says after Lance has chattered about his husband and kids and the business a bit. Mike didn’t throw in anything about how his own life is going, and Lance didn’t ask. 

“Okay is one word for it,” Lance says. He stops walking, close to the end of the pier, and leans on the dock’s wooden railing to give Mike the bland, trusting stare that used to drive him nuts when he was trying to get Lance to act. “It’s not the end of the world,” he says. “Jay said I’ll get royalties. I know I signed my rights away to you guys back then. I guess I thought it would impress you or something. I always wished I could be as hardcore or daring or whatever as you two. And it’s not like it’s anything that’s come back to haunt me. I freaked out about it around the time I was getting married, even though Pete has known about it for years. I was afraid it would hurt his family’s business. But he’s always said it’s a non-issue and he’s been right so far. I guess I overestimated how many people in the world have even seen those old videos.” 

Mike nods to himself, relieved. He’s always wanted the videos to exist in a kind of alternate universe that doesn’t touch their ‘real’ lives. It hasn’t worked out that way for him or Jay, but Lance having gotten away from it without any battle damage is the most just possible outcome, since all he ever made from his involvement was about seven hundred bucks’ appearance fees, plus whatever royalties he’ll end up with now, which likely won’t amount to much. 

“I was happy to hear you and Jay got back together,” Lance says. He has his arms crossed over his chest while he waits for Mike to get on with it, but he looks pretty relaxed and patient, like he always did. “Unless-- Is it just work?”

“It’s never just work with me and Jay,” Mike says, muttering. “Which brings me to what I want to ask you about. It’s kind of a weird question.”

“It’s never not weird with you and Jay,” Lance says, and he grins to show Mike that was meant fondly. 

“Ha. Yeah. True. Umm, well. Did Jay ever show you that video of our first time together? The one that wasn’t meant to be, like, sold, or seen by anybody?”

“No.” Now Lance looks a little offended, as if he’s gotten a whiff of Mike vaguely accusing him of something. “Why?”

“Nothing, just. Someone leaked it online, and I thought only me and Jay ever had a copy, so. I’m just trying to figure out what happened.”

“Do you think Jay did it?” Lance asks, now looking offended on Jay’s behalf. 

“No,” Mike says, and he can sense that Lance knows he’s lying. Bland as he is, he’s a good judge of when people are being honest with him or not, which was part of why Mike couldn’t stand him in the end. “I’m just trying to figure it out.”

“So you came to speak to me for the first time in ten years?” Lance scoffs and shakes his head, arms still crossed over his chest. “I actually can’t believe you didn’t become some huge director in Hollywood, Mike.”

“Why’s that,” Mike mumbles, though he can guess.

“Because you’re so good at being a self-centered asshole and getting people to like you anyway.”

Mike opens his mouth to debate that, then just leans onto the pier railing, staring down at the softly churning water and feeling like he might puke. Lance can now go back to work, back to where he belongs and fits in and is forgiven for having been in porn once. Mike feels like he as no place go, and like he probably deserves this fate. 

“I’m sorry,” Mike says when Lance leans beside him, arms folded on the railing. “I guess I treated you like shit back then, huh?”

“I wasn’t mad when you did,” Lance said. “I think you were just jealous.”

“Jealous.”

“Yeah. Not of, like, me. More of Jay, really. That he could be chill about things while you were always grinding your teeth over everything.” 

Mike absorbs that unhappily, wishing he didn’t understand exactly what Lance means. Jay could get fucked by another guy for their art and shrug it off. Mike could shrug off the fucking, because he didn’t feel possessive of Jay in that way, as if the literal dick-going-in part could lessen what was special between him and Jay in reality. What bothered him was how easily Jay shared himself with people, with all their viewers and in theory with anyone who wanted to work with them, as if it was just a job, just for money, so who cares? For Mike it was a far more sacred thing that started when they recorded that first time video without even meaning to. He’d always wanted it all to mean more to Jay than it ever would. 

“You look like you want to die,” Lance says, and he has the nerve to be smiling about this when Mike glances over at him. “You’d better go apologize to Jay, if you actually accused him of leaking that video.”

“Why wouldn’t I think so?” Mike asks, angry again. “You just said so yourself. He was so ‘chill’ about all of it, and he still fucking is, so why not put that thing out to drum up the hype for what we’re working on now? What difference would it make, to him?” 

“He wouldn’t do that without asking you first, Mike. He’s pragmatic, not heartless.” 

Mike groans and puts his hands over his face, trying to force himself to accept that he’s really standing beside Lake Michigan on a beautiful day with this asshole from his past who has be the one to tell him Jay isn’t heartless, as if Mike didn’t know that. 

“You’re right,” Mike says, and he claps his hand on Lance’s shoulder. “I’m sorry. Again.” 

“I appreciate the apology,” Lance says. He claps Mike’s shoulder in a similar fashion, hard enough to communicate that he could handily kick Mike’s ass if he wanted to. “But I’m not the one who needs it.” 

Lance goes back to work and Mike remains on the pier. He paces around for a while, considers getting a beer, then makes himself call Jay. He’s not surprised when there’s no answer, and doesn’t leave a voicemail. He should apologize in person, when he’s ready to do it without blowing up irrationally all over again. He’s still too torn up from the shock of that video appearing online to be level-headed about anything yet. 

He considers returning Gil’s calls, or at least Rich’s texts, and postpones dealing with either of them by deciding to drive home first and see how he feels when he gets there. The summer sun has begun to make him sweat and maybe burn across the back of his neck as he wanders the pier in aimless angst. He wants to be in shadow, at home, hiding at least somewhat from what’s happening.

When he pulls up to his place he sees at least one of those phone calls won’t be necessary, because Gil is in the parking lot by Mike’s building, leaning against his fancy rental car and wearing mirrored sunglasses that make Mike preemptively want to punch him. 

“How’d you know where I live?” Mike asks as he approaches, trying to remember if he ever gave Gil this information. 

Gil scoffs and doesn’t move or even push his sunglasses up. For once he’s not beaming at Mike like an idiot, but he seems nervous. Mike can see sweat stains under the armpits of his expensive-looking Oxford shirt.

“Mike, you’re under contract,” Gil says. “Of course I can find out where you live, if you stop returning my calls after shutting down production on my film, apparently?”

“Your film?”

“What the hell is going on?” Gil asks. Mike has never seen him angry before and isn’t surprised that it makes his voice ten times more obnoxious, gratingly loud and almost squeaking at moments. “Jay left a message with my assistant saying that he quits and that he’ll give his half of the money back.” 

At first Mike thinks he feels sick to his stomach just for the idea of Gil having an assistant. Then he processes the rest: he’s begun to accept that has Jay quit for good but somehow hadn’t thought about what it would cost him financially, all that sunk time and effort and emotional turmoil, nothing to show for it. 

The next, completely insane thought Mike has is that he’ll take care of Jay, no matter what. Even if he just has to send checks in the mail and Jay never speaks to him again. So long as Jay cashes the checks. 

He looks at Gil, who is fuming, his too-large mouth set in straight line while he waits for Mike to explain himself. 

“Didn’t you want this to happen?” Mike asks, unable to quash his unwise instinct to be hateful toward this man. “Huh? Maximum drama, right? Well, you got it. Congratulations, hope you can use it toward marketing a half-finished movie. And if anything gets released, Jay’s still getting paid. I can make a feature out of what we’ve already shot.” He’s lying, but right now seems like a good time to do so.

“Do you think this is a game?” Gil asks, ripping his sunglasses off like he thinks he’s in a fucking crime procedural or something. “This is my career on the line, you unstable hack. Do you even know how hard I went to bat for you two on this? Do you know how fucking rare it is to get that kind of advance for a goddamn porno flick?”

Mike says nothing, feeling like if he opens his mouth a fist will come out. If he even shoves Gil’s shoulder Gil will sue him for assault, thereby leaving him unable to financially take care of Jay. 

“What do I need to do to get Jay back on the set?” Gil asks, jabbing the sunglasses toward but not quite into Mike’s chest, probably knowing that would send his fists flying. “Better yet, what do you need to do? What the hell went wrong?”

Mike is trying to figure out a way to blame this on Gil when it hits him like a dump truck: he doesn’t need to make up a reason. It’s true. 

Gil redesigned their old website, years ago. He volunteered, unasked for, saying they needed a more professional look, and proceeded to make the site look a thousand times worse. He had no eye for design, just like he had no good filmmaking instincts. Among the creative types he kept company with, Gil floated by solely on overconfidence, which was the one talent he actually possessed and which would get him much father than Mike and Jay had once assumed. They had laughed about the ugly website and six months later fixed it themselves. Gil asked to be paid for the work he’d done on it, and they never bothered to dignify those requests with much of a response. In their view, Gil was lucky they even spoke to him. His payment for anything he did for them was in something that was adjacent enough to friendship to satisfy him, in ways they didn’t understand but tolerated, because while he could occasionally be useful he mostly he just inflated their egos better than anyone. He seemed to truly admire them, to almost be in awe of them, and they both got off on that more than they wanted to admit. Gil had always felt like a debt they would never have to pay.

“You,” Mike says when he can talk again, interrupting a frothing rant from Gil that he’d managed to tune out while processing what he now understands. He can feel his eyes bulging, and when Gil only looks confused for a moment before shrinking back against the trunk of his car, Mike knows he’s right.

In the process of redesigning that old website, Gil had asked for access to their files. They’d given it, under supervision, but he must have found something he wasn’t meant to in a way that slipped their notice: the first time video. He’s the one who leaked it. 

“What?” Gil says, gulping. His big boy posture is gone as Mike crowds toward him, already shaking with rage. “Mike? What the fuck? Look, I-- I saw that old video getting circulated, I know how that must--”

“You did it. You piece of shit. You had it all this time, and you put it online.” 

Gil makes a dry sound from the back of his throat and tries to back up against the car some more, but he’s pressed as much of himself as he can against it already, becoming as narrow and small as he can make himself while Mike looms over him, breathing harder and curling his hands into fists. 

“That’s--” Gil says, his eyes going spinny as he seems to calculate whether or not and just how elaborately he should lie, now that he’s caught. “Mike, okay, well, maybe-- Listen--”

Mike reaches for Gil’s throat but won’t let himself make contact, even as rage consumes him like a column of flame that feels like it will reach the fluffy midday clouds far overhead and set them on fire, too. He leaves his hand hanging in the air near Gil’s chin, his fingers curled inward as if he’s holding some invisible extension of Gil’s throat, using the Force to make him speechless at last. 

“Look, man!” Gil says, scrambling against the car and trying to make his now-terrified expression angry again. “You don’t-- You don’t get it, okay, the sales figures were-- You guys needed this, and what’s the cost? Huh? Realistically? It’s a product people wanted, and it will drum up--”

“It’s not a product. It’s private. Or it was, before you fucking stole it.” 

“I-- Ah, okay, if you’ll recall, I was given permission to curate your library, for the website--”

“You know you didn’t have fucking permission. You found that and you copied it in secret. You-- Watched it? You’re fucking sick, what’s wrong with you?”

“I didn’t know it wasn’t just another MikeNJay video, at first! I swear, Mike. And then it just sat there, you know, in my possession, all those years, unwatched, unshared, and eventually I did realize it was this thing people talked about online, the actual first time video, and I-- Listen, I saved it for you guys! Okay? Because you’re both hotheads and dramatic and I thought, okay, there’s a high chance these two are gonna delete their copies out of heartbreak or anger or something, and then they’ll be so glad that I saved a copy--”

“You put it online. You fucking leaked it, yesterday. That’s-- I should-- Kill you, Gil. I should fucking kill you.” 

He thinks of the climax of the Mindfuck movie, where Vince the construction guy rips the hypnotist apart limb from limb in a comical crescendo of absurd bloody violence. At that point in the script he’s in love with Jay’s character and decides to kill the hypnotist out of rage but also guilt, because he loves the mess that the hypnotist made of Barney, and how that violation of trust delivered Barney to him. 

“Okay, fine, you should kill me, great!” Gil says, looking truly frightened. His gaze keeps darting around the otherwise empty parking lot like he’s hoping for witnesses or considering screaming for help. “But you won’t, and trust me, you’ll be thanking me when you see how this affects pre-sales. They’re already going up! I came here to tell you that good news and to beg you, fucking beg you to get Jay back onboard, okay? He won’t return my calls, and-- I need this, Mike. And, since I know you don’t give a fuck about me, lest we forget, Jay needs this. Him needing this is how we all got here. I did it for him, really. He’ll understand, when all’s said and done and he can retire, or whatever the fuck he wants.” 

Gil’s breathing is agitated. His hands are halfway raised, as if he wants to protect his face but also doesn’t want to offend Mike, thereby angering him further. Mike stands too close to him for a while in silence, wondering if it’s worth wrecking his life to hit him, just once. Gil would not only press charges but would also sue for insane damages like emotional torture. He’d probably try to sue for all the emotional torture he’s imagined Mike inflicting on him since they met, for not being his best friend or boyfriend or filmmaking collaborator or whatever the fuck combination of things Gil actually wants from him. Mike’s defense that Gil stole an old sex tape and put it online wouldn’t amount to much. He won’t be able to prove it was Gil who leaked it if he denies it, which he would. 

“You look like you’re coming to your senses about this,” Gil says, his voice a little choked. 

When Mike exhales Gil flinches like he’s waiting for the first blow. 

“You don’t even know what you’ve done,” Mike says. “You’ve fucked us all. Financially, and-- Jay will never speak to me again.” 

“Huh?” Gil flinches again, this time in full body confusion. “Why not? He blames you?”

“No. You don’t get to know why. Just know that it’s your fault, because you did this.”

“Oh, everything’s my fault, right!” Gil tries to move away, then loses his nerve and shrinks again, bent almost fully onto the back of the car, looking more like an imperiled Looney Tunes character than ever. “I’m only trying to help, Mike. I know you hate me, and that Jay wants me dead. You think I don’t know that? I just believe in you, okay? I can’t help it. You don’t know the agony of being so close to greatness. How could you ever understand? You _are_ greatness.”

“What the hell is wrong with you,” Mike says again, though he doesn’t want to know.

He steps away from Gil, who looks like he doesn’t understand the question, then like he’s very relieved that Mike has decided against stomping his ass into the parking lot pavement. 

“Just talk to Jay, please?” Gil says, clasping his hands together in a begging gesture. “You can talk him into anything. He’s just waiting for you to tell him what to do, I promise. I think that’s what I always envied about you most, Mike. That you have such a willing muse.” 

“Get the fuck off of my property before I call the cops,” Mike says, though he doesn’t own this building, doesn’t even own his apartment.

Wisely, Gil nods and hurries into his car. He peels away while Mike is still standing there, shaken by a sense of responsibility and regret that won’t let him take a single step away from this situation. He accused Jay of something that Gil did, actually believed Jay might be capable of the kind of nasty stunt that now seems so obviously characteristic of that weasel and the way he’s haunted them since the start. Mike can’t even begin to forgive himself, and he expects nothing but hatred from Jay once he learns the truth. 

He makes it into his apartment eventually, and makes himself a strong drink. He’s halfway through it when he tries calling Jay again and again gets his voicemail. 

“We need to talk,” Mike says. “I was wrong. I can explain. Call me, please. Okay? Okay. Bye.”

He puts the phone down and stares at it, fully aware that he won’t be hearing from Jay anytime soon and that he won’t be able to do anything but watch the silent phone and stew in his deserved misery until he figures out how to fix this, which might be impossible, which would mean he’ll feel like this for the rest of his life: like the villain of Jay’s life story, nothing more than someone Jay is lucky to be rid of at last.

The sun goes down. Mike wanders around his apartment and feels like he’s looking for something he misplaced, like his keys or his phone. He knows he’s actually searching for Jay in some delirious, half-awake way, but can’t make himself stop. He thinks of reorganizing his disastrously messy bedroom closet and starts piling stuff out onto the floor in the bedroom, then feels defeated by the sheer amount of crap he's managed to hang onto, which covers the entire bedroom carpet now that he's exhumed it from the closet. He ends up in bed, where he can’t sleep. 

He gets up in the middle of the night and avoids checking what time it is, mostly for the excuse not to look at his phone, because for as long as he doesn’t look he can still cling to the slimmest possibility that Jay might have called. His stomach hurts and he thinks of eating, then decides against it. He ends up at his computer in the editing suite, sitting in his chair and staring at the empty one that he bought for Jay.

Eventually he moves the mouse, bumping it with his hand without really meaning to, and the screen comes to life. The clock on the bottom right of the screen says it’s 2:48 AM. He’d hoped it was later, that he’d managed to pass more of this day that feels like a fever that won’t break. It’s Sunday. Simon is supposed to arrive back in town later this morning, as this is the week they planned to shoot his death scene for the movie. Jay will have told him by now what happened-- Enough, anyway, for him to be aware that Jay is done with Mike. With no scene to shoot, maybe Simon will just stay in L.A. 

Mike scoffs, because of course he won’t. He’ll come running, will be there to comfort Jay and pay for everything and maybe finally get a chance to let Jay settle for him. 

It feels cruel to think of Simon this way, as if Jay doesn’t deserve that kind of support, which probably amounts to real love in a way that Jay will eventually figure out, maybe after he’s been married to Simon for a few years, like in a sentimental period movie about an arranged marriage that turns into a real one as the initially lukewarm couple bonds over the ups and downs of farm life or surviving on the frontier or whatever. In the meantime Mike is browsing angrily through his old files, imagining Gil’s eyes getting huge when he found the one he leaked. Mike can see it so clearly now that he can't believe he never worried about it before: Gil quietly copying it to whatever he was using to collect their other videos while Jay was looking in the other direction, plotting already to somehow use it against them in a way that he could twist into a pretense of supporting their dreams. 

Mike thinks of one other video they never released, which Gil won’t have had an opportunity to steal, because they made it years after they’d stopped talking to him. It was intended to be released when they made it, as part of the Dude Bros series. 

He navigates to it and opens it, feeling guilty, as if it’s something he stole from Jay. He hasn’t watched it in a long time, because it’s too painful, and was always waiting with dread for Jay to bring it up while they worked on the re-edits of this series. He was extremely relieved when Jay seemed determined, like Mike, to pretend to have forgotten it exists. 

The video wasn’t the last one they did in the Dude Bros series, but it was close to the end, and when they decided to start up a new series to escape the baggage that this one had taken on, they should have known it would travel with them and only get worse for their attempts to ignore its presence. The premise of the video is pretty simple, and Jay wanted to use it work in specific fetish stuff, thinking they needed to branch out. He was always on Mike about how they weren’t risky enough in their stuff, falling back too often on what had worked in the Sid and Dex videos, their trademark dirty talk filth that gives way to sweetness and character moments as the scene wraps up. Mike never wanted to get away from that kind of work, but he understood Jay’s points about needing to incorporate new things, and unless they involved anything truly hardcore he usually gave in. 

He starts up the video, but can’t really hear the dialogue. He’s remembering the conversation they had about it beforehand, while Lance sat dumbly listening. It was all Jay’s idea. Mike should have known it was a test. He should have known Jay wanted him to say, no, that’s too much, I won’t let other people see you that way.

Though of course it wasn’t Jay experiencing these particular humiliations, it was Nate, his pathetic character who was always getting tricked into letting his roomates spit roast him and then sniffling against the shoulder of Mike’s character in the aftermath, which was Mike’s demand, because otherwise it wasn’t funny when they did comedy cuts to Nate getting fucked, just depressing. 

In the video, Nate, who is smaller than the other two Dude Bros, gets too drunk during one of their beer bingeing hangouts and passes out on the couch. While he’s sleeping it off, Tommy, the biggest and meanest Dude Bro, picks up a discarded bra that one of his conquests left behind in the living room. It’s tiny and pink, the cups just two little gauzy triangles. He drapes it across Nate’s chest and cracks up, starts taking pictures. 

Mike’s character Ronnie is somewhere between pouty, hapless Nate and indifferent asshole Tommy. He is also an asshole, and he laughs at the bra stunt, but you can see he looks a little worried, in part because Mike was worried while they shot this. Feminization stuff was not something Jay was into in real life. He was way too sensitive about being small and blond and picked on as a kid for hanging out with his sister and hating sports. But this wasn’t real life, Mike reminded himself, it was a porno. People got off on this kind of thing, and they were supposed to be branching out, according to Jay, who’d come up with this whole plot. 

Nate continues sleeping it off obliviously with the bra still draped across his chest, and Tommy gets an idea. He says they should splash some water on Nate’s crotch and then wake him up to berate him for pissing himself. Ronnie says that won’t work, because it won’t smell like piss. He’s just looking for any excuse not to do it while pretending to find the concept as funny as Tommy does. Tommy says fine, he’ll pee in a cup and toss that on Nate’s jeans to properly fool him. 

“Dude, sick,” Ronnie says, looking authentically queasy. Mike really didn’t want to do this, though he didn’t find this level of fetish content to be especially hardcore. Something just felt off. 

“Whatever, you pussy,” Tommy says, already heading for the bathroom. “I’m doin’ it.” 

“You’ll mess up the couch!” Ronnie protests. “That’s our only couch, dude!” 

Tommy doesn’t respond, just kicks the bathroom door shut behind him. 

Ronnie sits there fretting, shuffling in place on the dumpy armchair he’s seated in, across from the couch where Nate is still passed out. Nate looks angelic in a dumpy, vulnerable way, sleeping soundly. Mike framed that shot with care. Ronnie is hard in his jeans, because he’s already thinking about making Nate put that bra on for real when he wakes up, and how sad and hot it will look squeezed around Nate’s chubby little man boobs. He also looks like he wants to tell Tommy not to pour piss on their friend, because he’s secretly in love with Nate and afraid that they’re traumatizing him with all their antics, even if Nate gets off on them, too. 

He says nothing, because he doesn’t want to stop fucking Nate, and Tommy always incites it when they do. Things always start off crazy, get crazier, and then Tommy trots off without a care, leaving Ronnie to comfort Nate as subtly as he can in the aftermath. Ronnie is a coward, worse than Tommy, because his feelings are real but he still sits there letting it all happen. Mike still hates Ronnie, is already grinding his teeth watching this. 

“This series is so dark,” Jay said when they sitting here editing together last month.

Mike knew he was thinking about this video when he said it, though they were watching a different one.

Tommy returns from the bathroom with a cup and a huge evil grin. They used apple juice for the color, but in the world of Dude Bros it’s Tommy’s actual piss. 

“Dude, this is so nasty,” Ronnie says, defeated, as he watches Tommy snickering and dribbling the contents of the cup onto the crotch of Nate’s jeans. “Don’t get it on the floor!” 

“Okay, mom,” Tommy says. “Don’t get your panties in a wad. That’s Nate’s job.” 

There’s a push in shot on Jay’s face as he makes a sad expression of unconscious displeasure. When the cup has been stashed away off camera, Tommy jostles Nate’s shoulder hard. 

“Dude!” Tommy says, shouting. “Wake up, you fucker! You just pissed all over the couch!”

“Wah--” Nate blinks up at Tommy, looking terrified. He sits up, and the bra tumbles down toward his lap. He catches it and holds it, looking confused and starting to panic. “Oh shit,” he says when he sees his wet jeans. “Fuck--” 

“You know we’re gonna have to spank you for that,” Tommy says, folding his arms over his chest and shaking his head. “Nasty, man.” 

“Spuh-- What, just-- Sorry, I-- What is this?” he asks, scowling at the bra and holding it up. 

“You tell me,” Tommy says. “We just walked in here after getting more beers and you were wearing it.”

“Dude, shut up,” Ronnie says. He meets Nate’s eyes, trying to communicate sympathy, but not enough to also make himself the target of ridicule, which was Ronnie’s thing. “Tommy put that on you.” 

Nate looks like he might cry, like he usually did at the start of these things. Jay had a whole horrible backstory for him. Mike had to stop him from elaborating after he heard a few details and said it was too sad for him. If he’d known more, he wouldn’t have been able to make Ronnie mean to Nate anymore. 

“Come here,” Ronnie says, crossing the room angrily. He’s pretending to be furious at Nate, and in a way he is, but he’s really mad at himself and done with Tommy’s shit. This twist in the plot was Mike’s rewrite. The original concept had them spanking Nate until he cried and then fucking him. Mike said that was too many fetish elements all squished together and that he could make this weirder in other, better ways. Jay ultimately agreed.

“I’m sorry,” Nate says when Ronnie yanks him up off the couch. “Ronnie--”

“I’m gonna clean you up,” Ronnie says. “Tommy, you clean the couch.”

“Fuck that,” Tommy says, grabbing his jacket. “I ain’t no cleaning lady. I’ve got a date, anyway. See you losers later.” 

Tommy leaves. At this point in the shoot, Lance left, too. Often he hung around while Mike and Jay shot their Nate and Ronnie scenes, to help with camerawork or sound, but Mike shot all of what follows with a tripod, claiming that the static shots would make it more intense, which was bullshit. Nobody argued with him, though they all knew he wanted to do the rest without an audience in case Jay decided he hated it, couldn’t go through with it, or otherwise started freaking out. Jay would have insisted that Lance stay and help if he’d been willing to say that he knew Mike was just worried about him, but he never wanted to admit that he knew Mike at times feared Jay was a little mentally unfit for the work they were doing, as if that meant Mike thought he wasn’t strong enough, so he let Lance go and helped Mike set up the static shot for the next scene. 

The next scene takes place in the bathroom, where Ronnie strips Nate while cursing him, saying he shouldn’t try to keep up with him and Tommy when they’re drinking, that he’s too small and can’t hold his liquor, clearly. 

“I didn’t think I had that much,” Nate says. He’s blubbering and dark pink across his cheeks, still drunk. “M’sorry, Ronnie, I’ll clean the couch--” 

“Just shut up and let me clean you first,” Ronnie says. His character’s direction is that he’s panicked with the need to get the scent of Tommy’s piss off of Nate’s skin. Mike hasn’t been able to stand the smell or taste of apple juice ever since. 

They were always trying to think up new ways to humiliate Nate that would also be kind of creepily gentle, and this was a new one: having him kneel on all fours in the tub while Ronnie scrubbed him with a soapy rag. They made the water just a few inches deep, as if Nate didn’t deserve a full bathtub. Nate keeps babbling apologies while Ronnie washes him and tells him to be quiet, that he’s totally ruining Ronnie’s buzz.

“Oh, and now you’re hard?” Ronnie says, smacking Nate on his freshly cleaned ass cheek when he notices. “That’s it. You’re gonna get it for this, bro.”

“I’m sorry,” Nate says, sniffling, his head hanging between his arms. “I, I didn’t mean to get hard, but you were touching my dick when you cleaned it.”

“Yeah, yeah, we all know how much you love being manhandled by a dude. I got an idea about how you can make it up to me, c’mon.”

The scene shifts to the bedroom, where Nate is sitting on the end of the bed, naked and dried off, peering up at Ronnie with his dick hard and his hands tucked between his knees, nervously awaiting his punishment. Part of the backstory that Mike actually heard was that Nate loved Ronnie, too, but differently, innocently, and with shame that he didn’t deserve to feel. All of Jay’s characters were victims, outcasts, and the best they could hope for was Mike’s selfish characters giving them a few crumbs of softness after he was done with them. 

“This,” Ronnie says, lifting the lacy pink bra. “Shall be your punishment, dude.” 

“Wha--” Nate says, gaping at it. “What am I supposed to do with that?”

“Wear it, duh. You’ve got those little tits, so why not? I wanna see ‘em all cute and pushed up inside this thing.” 

Nate crosses his arms high over his chest to hide his chubby pecs. His blush is real, and the flash of fire in his eyes belongs to Jay, too. Jay wrote the dialogue for this, but Mike was ad-libbing a bit, wanting Jay to push back and snap at him to stick to the script. It always unnerved him when Jay wouldn’t break character as Nate. 

“Fine,” Nate says, trying to snatch the bra, still glowering and red-faced. 

“Nuh-uh,” Ronnie says, holding it out of reach. “I’m gonna do the honors.” 

Mike is chewing his lip, watching the scene play out. Ronnie crawls behind Nate on the bed, smirking and hard in his jeans, and pulls Nate’s hands away from his chest, exposing him to the camera. Jay hated how chubby he got toward the end of their time together, and though he never said so Mike knows Jay blames him for shifting all his bad habits onto Jay, who didn’t have the advantage of Mike’s height to absorb them. Mike loved all of Jay’s soft places, but he understood that it was disturbing to see yourself change in various helpless ways as you aged. He tried to be sensitive about it, which Jay of course hated him for, because god forbid Mike act like Jay had any feelings of inadequacy, even as Jay talked about them more and more often, always shutting Mike out if he attempted any sort of response. 

“Damn, girl,” Ronnie says as he kneads Nate’s chest.

Mike winces. 

“Don’t call me girl,” Jay mumbles-- In his Nate voice, or close enough that Mike just kept rubbing his chest while he squirmed and whined uncomfortably, according to script. 

“Why shouldn’t I?” Ronnie asks. “I know you want to be my girl, Nate dawg. I can tell.” 

“No, I don’t!” 

“Shh, shh, sure you do. See, watch how well this is gonna fit ya.” 

Nate makes miserable faces as Ronnie puts the bra on him with cruel ceremony, and again when it’s snapped into place and his chubby pecs are pinched inside the two pink triangles, some spilling over the top. Ronnie is kneeling behind him, moaning and groping him, starting to kiss his neck. Nate whines and pouts but tilts his head so Ronnie can kiss his throat better, in the spots where Ronnie knows he likes it. 

“This is weird,” Nate says, shaky-voiced. “You’re weird.” 

Ronnie grunts. Later Jay would say they should scrap this video because they deviated too much from their Dude Bros-style jokey dialogue, and weren’t doing the douchey exaggerated voices right either.

“Dude, you’re making me hard,” Ronnie says, digging his fingers into against Nate’s stiff nipples, through the fabric. “Wanna fuck my best girl now. Pretty sure you’re wet for it.” 

“Shut up,” Nate mumbles. He gasps, spreading his legs, when Ronnie reaches down to fondle the leaking tip of his cock. 

“Yeah, nice and wet,” Ronnie says, rubbing this thumb in circles around the head of Nate’s dick. “Good girl.” 

Mike was never into this feminization stuff either, but he was so hard for this scene, because Jay was fucking cute in that bra and because it seemed like they were doing something semi-dangerous, which, unfortunately, they both got off on. 

The rest of the video is pretty standard: Ronnie fucks Nate from behind while feeling him up through the bra, looking like he’s in heaven with his cheek resting on Nate’s pale back, his stupid ballcap turned sideways, eyes closed. Nate moans, jams himself back against the feeling of Ronnie inside him, and repeats the nasty things that Ronnie tells him to confess, saying that he’s Ronnie’s good girl and sounding like wants to cry about it even while he comes for it, too.

The end of the video would have been edited out if they’d ever entertained the idea of releasing the rest. Ronnie comes inside Nate, kisses his back and holds him for a while, and unhooks the bra while he’s still inside him. He throws it onto the floor and rubs Nate’s chest, where he has red imprints from the too-tight straps and triangle cups. 

“Dude, you didn’t piss yourself,” Ronnie says, mumbling this against Nate’s ear. “Tommy did that, to prank you.” 

“I don’t care,” Nate says. He has his face buried in his arms, which are folded on the bed. “I feel sick.” 

“You drank too much,” Ronnie says, and he slides out of Nate, looking concerned. 

Mike remembers this too well. His heart beats fast, watching now. 

It’s not in the video, but Mike had crawled over to rest his face beside Jay’s. He’d called him by his real name, speaking softly, using just his questioning tone to ask if Jay was okay. 

Jay had turned to glower at him, telling Mike without words to knock it off, get back in the scene, stop treating him like he really was one of these victim sad sacks he played in their videos. 

The video cuts to a pushed-in shot of Ronnie turning Nate gently onto his side, to face him. Nate has his hands over his eyes. Ronnie takes Nate’s wrists and pulls his hands away so he can stare into his mortified face. 

“Dude, I’m sorry,” Ronnie says. “I shouldn’t have let him do that.” 

“Do what,” Nate says, flatly, because by then Tommy has done a lot. Ronnie has, too, and Nate’s expression communicates as much, angry and accusing. 

Ronnie makes a wordless sound of regret and pulls Nate’s hands up to his mouth to kiss his fingers. This is all wrong for the Dude Bros series. It looks like Mike, like Jay, and Mike almost wishes they’d just deleted this, except that there’s something brutally beautiful about how much it hurts him to watch it now. 

“M’not your girl,” Nate mumbles, and it’s adorably petulant in an intentional way that makes it clear Jay is acting again, or still. 

“I know,” Ronnie says. This was them ad-libbing, and Mike remembers not knowing how to play it, just nervously following Jay’s lead. 

“I’m not your anything,” Nate says, pulling at the grip Ronnie has on his hands. 

Ronnie doesn’t let him pull free. He exhales and curls Nate’s little fists up together inside his own. 

“Don’t be stupid,” he says. “‘Course you are.” 

Nate huffs and lowers his gaze to Ronnie’s chest, no longer trying to get free. Then the video cuts to credits that they never bothered to insert music over. 

They watched this together only once. Jay shook his head afterward, avoiding Mike’s eyes while he listed all the reasons it wasn’t right for the series: they went too far off script, the tone was wrong, forget it. Mike just nodded and let Jay stalk off into the kitchen to start loudly unloading the dishwasher. A few weeks later they were writing the Amish kid and biker series, and they only shot two more Dude Bros videos, both of them uninspired threesomes that followed the usual formula and felt stale even while they were filming the fuck scenes. 

Mike moves away from his computer, feeling like the ghost of himself. He checks his phone. No calls from Jay. 

He gets into bed and at some point manages to sleep, waking in the morning to a loud, persistent knocking on his apartment’s front door. He almost sprains an ankle in his mad dash to get there, sure that it will be Jay, but it’s not. It’s a delivery guy holding an edible flower arrangement. The card reads ‘Seems like you could use something happy and also health food, cheer up and don’t worry so much my friend, all will be well. Sincerely, Mr. and Mrs. Kravchuk.’

It takes Mike a minute to work out that Mr. and Mrs. Kravchuk are Dima and his wife, though he’s signed Dima’s paychecks for years. He’s just that disoriented, feeling like he’s in a dream while he stands holding the ridiculous bouquet of flower-shaped fruit kebabs while the delivery guy stares at him humorlessly, awaiting a signature on his clipboard. 

He thinks of calling Jay again after he’s showered and forced down a piece of stale coffee cake from the loaf Candy brought over in what now feels like a previous lifetime. He knows Jay won’t answer, so he just gets in his car and drives to Simon’s place. Inside the garage, he parks in a numbered spot that will possibly get him towed, not caring. 

He’s strangely not nervous as he approaches the security desk. Finally having slept helps, probably. The guard on duty is one who has seen him here many times before, which should be a good thing, because Mike is about to ask him for a favor, but the guy looks at him sourly and Mike feels ready for a fight. 

“Can you call up to the penthouse, please?” Mike asks. “Tell them Mike is downstairs and I need to see them urgently. Tell them it’s a matter of life and death.”

He says ‘them’ in case Simon is home already, hoping that he isn’t. 

“Life and death, sir?” the guard says, raising his thick eyebrows doubtfully. 

“Yes, tell them that, please.”

“Should I instead be calling 9-1-1?”

“No, thank you. In this case it’s just an expression, not literal. They’ll understand what I mean. It’s a kind of code, um. Please? It is urgent, that part’s true. Pressing. Important.” 

The man stares at him for another few blinks, then sighs under his breath in the most professional way possible while also communicating clearly what he thinks of Mike, and picks up the desk phone. 

“Yes, Mr. Barrett,” he says, smiling into the phone. “It’s Daniel, downstairs at the desk.” 

Mike’s heart sinks, but all is not lost. Simon might have helped Jay cool down. Maybe they can all talk it out together. Mike will take that, if it he has to, at this point. 

“I have a ‘Mike’ here in the lobby, asking for you urgently. He says it’s a matter of life and death. Figuratively.” 

Mike withholds a groan, elbows on the security desk and left heel bounding madly against the marble floor.

“He appears to be here alone, sir,” the guard says, then he hums into the phone and moves the mouth piece away to look up at Mike. “He’s asking me to ask you if Jay is okay?”

Mike’s leg goes still. The floor seems to drop away and then transform into ice, which shoots up through the length of Mike’s body. 

“He-- Jay isn’t with him?” Mike asks, wanting to grab the phone and berate Simon for letting Jay out of his sight.

“Perhaps you should come down, sir, if it’s not too much trouble,” the guard says, quietly, into the receiver. “Though of course, if you prefer, I can ask him to leave.” 

He hangs up while Mike stands there plummeting into panic, because if Jay isn’t with Mike, and isn’t with Simon, he could be anywhere, including in serious fucking danger. 

“He’s coming now,” the guard says. “If you wouldn’t mind, please meet him at the elevator.” 

Mike hurries to do so, dragging his hand over his face and watching the pace of the elevator’s descent on the digital readout overhead the doors, ready to either start weeping or throwing punches by the time the thing finally reaches the lobby. 

Simon looks worried when the doors open, and not even a little angry. Mike would have preferred rage. 

“Where’s Jay?” Mike asks, though all signs point to Simon not knowing.

“I was about to ask you the same thing,” Simon says, stepping out of the elevator. “I just got back into town this morning, just made it here about an hour ago. There was a weird note from Jay on the kitchen counter. I tried calling his cell, but no answer.” 

“What note, what did it say?”

Simon frowns and reaches into the back pocket of his jeans. He digs out a folded piece of fancy stationary paper and offers it to Mike.

Mike opens it and turns away from Simon, as if this is some private note to him, as if he was even meant to see it.

_Hey,_

_Thanks again for letting me stay here. I can’t tell you how much it means to me, really. I need to move back in to my place now. I think I’m going to leave Milwaukee once I have enough money. Some stuff got fucked up and I might not be around for a while, but in the meantime I need to be on my own again. I’m making myself worse by thinking I can’t handle it. I’ll be in touch soon. Not sure when you’ll be back since as I told you the movie is off. Sorry to have wasted your time with that. I’ll explain next time you’re in town._

_Jay_

“What the fuck?” Mike says, whirling back toward Simon, eyes wide and hands shaking.

“You tell me, man,” Simon says. “He left me a voicemail on Friday night, and he sounded pretty trashed. He said I didn’t have to come back because the movie was finished-- I think that’s the word he used? Finished? I was working and couldn’t call him back till the morning, but he didn’t answer, and he hasn’t answered any of my texts since then. I tried calling you, too, but you weren’t answering either, so I came back here like we’d planned, and I found this note, and he still won’t pick up his phone. What the hell is going on?”

“We fought,” Mike says, feeling the color drain from his face. “I’ll-- He’s at his apartment, he says? You should go there, right now. Knock until he answers. He’ll open the door for you, I think. Just, please. Make sure he’s okay.” 

“You think-- What?” Simon asks, looking stricken. “You think he’s not okay?”

“I don’t fucking know, but his stalker knows he lives there. What the fuck is he thinking? Fuck!” 

“You should go,” Simon says. “I have a feeling you’re the one he wants running after him.” 

“You don’t understand,” Mike says. “This old video of ours leaked, I blamed him--”

“Mike,” Simon says, cutting him off. “Let me give you the address. I agree, we should check on him right away, but it should be you who goes. You know Jay better than I do, and you can’t stand here and tell me he’d rather see me than you, whatever you guys fought about. To be blunt, um. You need to get your head out of your ass and go take care of him. He doesn’t want it from me. We both know that.” 

Mike opens his mouth to argue, then just nods. There’s no time to waste. He pulls his phone out and plugs in Jay’s apartment address when Simon reads it from his own phone. 

“Thanks,” Mike says, feeling like shit in the face of Simon’s magnanimity. 

Simon shakes his head, still not managing to look like he hates Mike. 

“I’ll do anything I can to help,” he says. “But he knows that already.”

The navigation app that Mike put Jay’s address into gets him there in just fifteen minutes. Jay’s apartment building is pretty much what Mike pictured: not an outright dump but not well maintained or in a particularly good part of town. Jay probably pays a couple hundred a month less than Mike does for his own unimpressive place. Mike hurtles out of the car after parking and runs around like a lunatic in search of Building C. When he finds it his heart sinks at the outdoor walkways, the complete lack of security. 

Jay’s apartment is on the second floor of the three story building, in the middle of the hall. Mike knocks, renewed terror that something’s gone wrong hitting him like wave that crashes into him from behind, because if Jay isn’t here, if he’s in real trouble because of Mike, because Mike was so careless with him--

“Jay, it’s me,” he says when there’s no answer, and he flattens both his palms on Jay’s apartment door like a plea. “It’s Mike, please-- You don’t have to let me in, I just need to know you’re--”

He swallows the rest down when he hears footsteps inside, rapidly approaching. Mike pulls his hands off the door and leans back, bracing himself for Jay to be livid, raw-eyed and screaming, telling him to go away and never come back. Mike will take it if he has to, as long as it means Jay isn’t hurt or in danger, out of sight.

A heavy lock unclicks inside the door, and then another, then the one on the actual doorknob. Mike takes another step backward, not sure what to expect. He needs to see Jay’s face so badly that it seems impossible that he actually could. 

The door opens inward, and Jay stands inside, breathing hard. He looks like he’s been running laps inside of his apartment. His t-shirt has sweat stains. 

“Jay,” Mike says, ready to beg. “Simon showed me--” 

“Hurry,” Jay says, in a pinched voice, grabbing for Mike. He gets a handful of Mike’s sleeve and yanks him inside as if he’s pulling him out of the line of fire, then slams the door shut and does all the locks up again, hands shaking. 

Mike stands watching, disoriented and blinking in the near dark of Jay’s apartment. All the windows are covered with heavy curtains, some of them makeshift in the form of blankets, and there’s a musty smell that’s a bit tomb-like. 

“What’s wrong?” Mike asks when Jay turns to him, his back pressed to the now triple-locked door. “Jay? What’s going on?”

Jay shakes his head and moves around Mike, evading Mike’s attempt to touch him. He goes into the kitchen, where the only source of light is coming from the flickering fluorescent bulb over his stove. Jay points at something on the counter when Mike follows him into the kitchen, no longer quite relieved to have found him here, like this. 

“Don’t touch them!” Jay says when Mike reaches for the stack of letters Jay pointed to. “They’re evidence.” 

“Evidence? Of what? Jesus, what happened?”

Jay shakes his head and goes to the fridge. He touches the handle and hunches forward like he might throw up, not opening it. He seems like he’s fighting tears or can’t get his breath. Mike goes to him, expecting to be shrugged off again, and puts his hand gently on Jay’s back. Jay flinches against the touch but doesn’t move away. 

“Jay,” Mike says, more firm than soft, remembering what Simon said: get your head out of your ass and take care of him. “Tell me what’s going on, right fucking now. Are you okay?” 

He feels dumb for the question when the answer is obvious. Jay is clearly not okay, but Mike needs to know why. Jay stiffens when Mike rubs his back. 

“Those letters are from my stalker,” Jay says. “I haven’t opened them. I have to give them to the police, ‘cause they’re evidence that he’s violated his parole. But I can’t, I can’t make-- Make myself-- It’s like I can’t move, since I saw them. I can’t leave, I can’t go out, I can’t answer the phone, I can’t-- I feel like he’s-- Did you see anyone?” Jay asks, turning toward Mike, wild-eyed. “Outside? Anyone fitting his description? A young guy, big--”

“I didn’t see anyone,” Mike says. He cups his hands around Jay’s shoulders, rage toward the person who traumatized him simmering through him. It turns quickly into self-loathing, because Mike is the one who drove Jay back here, away from the safety of Simon’s place, away from everything. “Jay, it’s okay. I’m here, I-- Won’t let anyone hurt you, okay?”

Jay stares up into Mike’s face like that’s a bad joke, coming from him. 

“I’m here to help,” Mike says, feeling like an imposter. “Whatever you need, just tell me.” 

“Why would you help somebody you think so little of,” Jay says, shoving him away. “Somebody who betrayed you, somebody who’d--”

“I know you didn’t leak that thing-- I fucking-- Knew, I was just in shock--” 

“Fuck you, Mike,” Jay says, his voice breaking as he walks away, back into the dark living room. “I never in a million fucking years would think so low of you. But me-- I know what you think of me. I’ve known for a long time.” 

“Are you crazy?” Mike says, following him. “I literally think you’re perfect, if that’s what you mean.”

“You asshole,” Jay says, dropping on his couch and keeping his back turned on Mike. “What’s the point of lying to me about it now? I’m just this pathetic project for you. A piece of shit who hurt you back in the day. Well, you got what you wanted, right? Got me back good.” 

“You don’t believe that,” Mike says, unable to move. 

Jay sniffs and turns to glare at Mike. His eyes are wet, shining with unshed tears in the dark room.

“This whole thing was about getting my hopes up and then crushing them,” he says, his voice deteriorating a little more with every word. “Why are you even here? To gloat?”

Mike hurries toward him, unable to speak. Jay turns away and crumples down onto the couch, hiding his face against the cushion while his shoulders jerk with silent sobs. Mike has never seen him cry like this before, never thought he would. He sinks down onto the couch beside Jay rather than throwing his full weight onto him all at once and smothering him with affection the way he wants to, afraid to scare him off, as if Jay anywhere to run to. 

Mike puts his arms around Jay as slowly as he can manage to, leans down onto Jay’s shaking back and covers him like a human shield. He feels his eyes getting wet, too, when Jay loses his fight to stay quiet and starts dragging in painful-sounding breaths after every ragged sob. 

“Goddammit,” Jay says, his blown-apart voice dragging Mike’s heart to hell. “I hate you for this. I hate you.” 

“Okay,” Mike says, hugging him. “It’s okay. I know.” 

Jay cries in curt little jerks of his whole body, soaking the couch cushion with tears while Mike holds him. Mike rubs his face against the back of Jay’s neck and sniffles along with him, feeling like they might actually get somewhere if they just stay like this for a long time, maybe weeks. He’s afraid they’ll ruin it when they speak again. 

“I don’t want you to see me like this,” Jay says after he’s been quiet for a while and is shaking less violently, breathing with less audible effort. “Don’t look at me.”

“I’m not,” Mike says, and it’s true. His eyes are closed against the back of Jay’s neck. “But I love you anyway. No matter how you look.”

Jay scoffs wetly and deflates, some tension draining from his shoulders under the press of Mike’s body. It seems more like he’s trying to evaporate into the couch than surrender to Mike’s attempt to comfort him. They’re slumped over on the couch, Mike holding Jay from behind, twisted so that both of them still have their feet on the floor. Holding this position is hurting Mike’s back, but he doesn’t give a shit. Physical pain is welcome at the moment. 

“You have no idea,” Jay says when Mike strokes his wrist, rubbing his thumb over the tiny bones there. “No fucking idea how alone I’ve been.” 

Mike winces hard and nods, both agreeing and wanting to tell him that he does know, a little, because he was alone, too, even in close company, without Jay. He tightens his grip on Jay and exhales slowly when Jay doesn’t fight him, just lies there like he’s drained completely.

“I’m sorry,” Mike says, though it’s probably not time for this yet. “For thinking-- Saying-- Ah. Gil did it, by the way. He had the video from when he went through our stuff for the website way back when. He leaked it to promote the new movie. I know you didn’t do it, Jay. I know-- I knew, even before I found out who did. I just. I just keep waiting for you to turn on me like you did back then. Like I was wrong the whole time about how I thought you felt about everything, and you just wanted to be done with me.” 

“I said that to save you,” Jay says, his voice flat and tired. 

“Hmm?” 

“That shit I said that made you run away. I didn’t think it would work that well, for that long, but. I did it for you. So you could get away from me, because I’d fucked up your life with my psycho shit and I knew it was only going to get worse.” 

Mike eases Jay onto his back, sitting up on his elbow so that he can attempt to meet Jay’s eyes. Jay ducks his gaze away at first, then takes a shuddering breath and flicks his eyes to Mike’s as he exhales, looking so broken and small that Mike has to press his face against Jay’s before he can even think about what the hell to say in reply. 

“That’s nuts, man,” Mike says. “I loved you. I wouldn’t have changed anything.”

“I think I understand that now, but it’s also too late.” 

“How’s it too late?”

Jay scoffs and fidgets in Mike’s grip, frowning. 

“You just said it yourself,” he says. “You loved me. Past tense. I broke it, I know that. And I know you still have this-- Fondness for me, like. You want to help me, like you always did, but you’ll never trust me again. I wasn’t sure until you said that about me leaking the video. But now I know. I can’t fix it, it’s too late. You’ll never look at me and not hear me saying what I said the day you left.” 

“That’s not true,” Mike says, though he knows Jay is right about this being why Mike accused him of leaking the video. He’s been waiting this whole time for Jay to turn on him, because he did once, and for Mike that wound has never healed. But it could. Mike knows that now, holding Jay in this dark, dreary room, watching his eyes fill up again. He just has to make Jay know it, too. 

“It is true,” Jay says, losing his voice again. “And I’m so sorry about it. I’m really sorry, Mike.” 

“Shh, stop, don’t.” Mike presses his face to Jay’s again and licks at the line of Jay’s beard, where some tears have caught. “You were sad, and you made a mistake. I wish you hadn’t said that, and I wish I hadn’t left when you did. I wish you’d never felt like I’d be happier without you. Jesus, Jay, how can you think that? How could you, back then?”

Jay just shakes his head and pinches his eyes shut tight, finally rolling against Mike’s chest and letting Mike hold him fully. Mike scoots back onto the couch, stretching out along the length of it and pulling Jay with him so they’re lying with their legs tangled together, Jay’s face buried in Mike’s shirt. 

“I wish all that,” Mike says. “But it doesn’t change how much I need you back.” 

“You think you need me,” Jay says, his face still hidden, voice small. “But you don’t. You never did. I needed you. I was sucking your soul out, needing you.”

“You’re crazy-- I mean. Why did you think that?”

“The videos, Mike,” Jay says, lifting his face to show Mike a look of disbelief that’s familiar even with his face wrecked and wet like this, in a way that Mike has never seen before outside of maybe sex, which is different. 

“The videos?” Mike says when Jay just leaves it at that. 

“I dragged you into porn! Into this fucking-- Shitshow that never ends. You could have been, like, happy, with a normal person. You could have had kids and made real movies. But I wanted to be-- Unafraid, and. Different, and. I don’t know what the fuck I wanted, honestly, but it wasn’t what you wanted, and I never understood why you let me pull you into this, how you never told me you’d had enough. I wanted you to hate me for it, by the end. Which is why I said what I did.” 

Mike huffs, breathless with all the ways he wants to tell Jay how wrong he is about everything. He has to say so delicately, doesn’t want to get mad. He sweeps Jay’s messed up hair back and pets his cheek, thumbs away the lingering wetness at the corner of his eye. 

“You have a real warped perception of me if you think I would have been happier without how wild my life has been,” Mike says, when he’s calm enough to put words to how much he hates the idea that Jay ever thought any of this was beneath Mike, himself especially. “And that you were anything but the best part of all of it, by far.” 

Jay studies Mike’s face, calmer now and no longer crying. He seems exhausted above all, like he wants to give up because he’s too tired to go on. 

“I guess I just don’t understand,” Jay says. “I never understood. When I-- In that fucking video, the first one, when I threw that blanket off my lap and showed you my dick? I thought you’d laugh at me at best. I wanted to show you what I really was like, to prove to myself that you couldn’t handle it, or wouldn’t want to. But you just. I don’t know how you could have looked at me back then and wanted more.” 

“Are you kidding me? That was the greatest moment of my life, finding out you wanted me, too. God, why’d you have to make this so hard? All I wanted was to worship you.”

“Yeah, well. Not everybody can take being worshipped in stride.”

“I don’t see why the fuck not, but okay.” 

“Because for some people it feels like it must be a joke at their expense? And they can’t enjoy it, because when’s the punchline coming? Maybe at first, I thought-- There were times when you looked at me and I knew, like. How much you loved me, but. Then time went by and I figured you were just stuck, ‘cause I’d backed you into this weird porn corner.” 

“Jay, I grabbed your hand and ran with you into making porn at full speed. Nobody backs me into fucking anything, okay? Not even you. I’m here now, doing all this with you, because I’m proud of the stuff we made back then. Even the dark, weird stuff-- Especially that stuff! It had a beating heart and I still love it a lot. And you, too. I do still love you, so get the fuck out of here with doubting that.” 

Jay snorts, then almost smiles. He ducks his head down and exhales against Mike’s throat. He feels heavy in Mike’s arms, like he couldn’t move his limbs if he wanted to. 

“I haven’t slept,” Jay says, eyes closed while Mike pets his hair. “In-- Days, I think.”

“Go ahead and get some rest then.” Mike wants to turn those letters over to the cops, to bust the guy for parole violation sooner rather than later, but Jay is in no shape to deal with police who will sneer at him for his career and ask probing questions. “I’m here,” he says, smoothing his hand down over the back of Jay’s tired head. “I’ll keep you safe.” 

He expects Jay to make some noise of protest, even now, but he just nods and squirms against Mike’s chest like he wants to crawl fully inside him. Within two minutes he’s passed out, breathing evenly with his lips parted. 

Once he’s sure Jay is asleep, Mike takes a deep breath and expels it as quietly and smoothly as he can, trying to process everything that’s going on and all that Jay just told him. Of course Jay had to be in a state of frothing delirium to finally say any of that, in full breakdown mode. He might wake up defensive again, shifty and in denial. Mike holds him tight and takes in the room more completely, now that his vision isn’t tunneled to Jay’s face. The walls are decorated with framed movie posters hung between towering shelves filled with DVDs and books, accented here and there with little knick knacks and mini figures, most of which Mike remembers from their old life together or has spotted on Jay’s webcam videos over the years. There’s a blanket folded over the back of the couch that Mike recognizes, too, one they’d kept on their couch in the old apartment, plaid and fuzzy, pilling badly. Jay has the air conditioning blasting, and Mike wants to pull the blanket down over him, but he’s unwilling to let go of Jay long enough to reach for anything. 

Jay sleeps for a long time. Mike drifts in and out, thinking, and narrows his eyes at the locked front door every time he blinks awake, imagining the carnage he’d be capable of if that stalker tried so much as a knock right now. He can feel more than see that the sun is going down outside, this fucked up day nearing its end. He thinks of calling Simon, then decides that can wait. Simon will know what not hearing from Mike means: that he found Jay safe, that he’s doing what Simon told him to. Calling him to say so would just be rubbing it in.

Jay flinches in Mike’s arms at moments, eyebrows pinching in together, but sinks back into sleep when Mike gives him a squeeze or rubs the back of his neck. When he finally startles awake enough to blink at Mike sleepily Mike is relieved, because he’s needed to take a leak for like an hour. 

“Mike,” Jay says. His voice is still rough from crying, or just from sleep. 

“Yeah,” Mike says, shifting so his bladder feels less like it’s about to burst. “I’m here.”

“Mhm.” Jay closes his eyes again and presses his face to Mike’s throat. Mike just pets him, doesn’t have the heart to move away. “I always-- This will sound so gross, just. Disgustingly ironic, but. I always wish you were with me when I wake up. Ha. Go figure.” 

“That’s not disgusting,” Mike says, though he is annoyed at Jay all over again for so needlessly wrecking things. “I gotta run to your restroom. You need some water or anything?”

“Yeah, but I’ll get it,” Jay says. He sits up and rubs at his eyes, looks at the door. “God, what time is it?”

“I have no clue. Be right back, um. Point me in the right direction?”

When Mike returns from the bathroom, Jay is sitting on the couch with a bottle of water, drinking from it and giving Mike meek, uncertain glances that remind him of how things felt after their first fuck, after Jay told Mike not to delete the recording they’d accidentally made. Now that recording is out in the world, making the rounds for anyone interested and impressing few. Mike always thought it was too potent with true love or something to be viewed by prying eyes, even if someone ever got their hands on the file. But Gil watched it and tucked it away and now it’s just another one of their videos that circulates without bringing them any profit. 

“Should we call someone?” Mike asks, pointing to the kitchen. He’s hungry, thirsty, confused about how to proceed. “About the letters,” he says when Jay just stares at him like he doesn’t follow. “When they did arrive?”

“I dunno,” Jay says, mumbling. Mike can already see him wanting to be difficult again, as insurance against anything good ever happening to him. “I didn’t look at the postmarks yet. I just dropped them there when I recognized his handwriting. I’m afraid to even touch them, to be honest with you.” 

Jay confessing that he’s afraid of something moves Mike to hurry back to his side. He drops onto the couch and puts his arm around Jay’s shoulders, pulling him close until their foreheads touch. Jay stares down at Mike’s chest and lets Mike wrap both arms around him. 

“We can deal with it tomorrow,” Mike says, meaning the letters. “It’s almost seven.” 

“Jesus. I slept that long, huh.” 

“You needed it,” Mike says, nuzzling at him. He feels both overfull with relief and like this is some liminal space that isn’t necessarily going to settle within reality when the sun rises in the morning. He snorts a laugh when Jay starts pressing dry, hopeful kisses to his throat.

“What?” Jay says, pulling back to frown at him. “You don’t want to fuck?”

“I-- No, I do,” Mike says, though he remains confused about what the right move is. “Just. Are you sure you’re up for it?”

“It’ll make me feel better,” Jay says, reaching down to thumb at the button on Mike’s jeans. “I could shower first, um. I know I stink.” 

“Oh please. When has the smell of dirty Jay ever not turned me on?”

“Mike, jesus,” Jay says, and he flashes Mike a real smile that makes him feel like maybe things will be okay. Then Jay’s face gets serious again, the smile dropping away. “I love you,” he says, gravely, as if it’s a murder confession.

“I know,” Mike says. He leans in for a kiss, lets Jay push a choppy exhale into his mouth and shift into his lap. “You’re gonna be okay,” Mike says, muttering this against Jay’s lips, cupping his face to keep him close. “I’m gonna take care of you now, all right? You believe me?”

Jay makes a little gut-punched sound, pinches his eyes shut tight and nods. 

“It won’t be _that_ painful,” Mike says, trying to make a joke about how much Jay looks like he hates the idea. 

Jay opens his eyes and studies Mike’s face, looking confused and still a little pained. 

“You don’t understand,” he says. He swallows and glances away, like maybe he already regrets trying to talk about this. “Nobody’s-- Ever. Except you.”

“I know,” Mike says, because he does fucking understand, finally. He knows that’s why Jay once said something cruel enough to send him running, too. It wasn’t just because Jay had sunken into a morass of self-hating insecurity that nobody could have pulled him out of. He was testing Mike, too, making sure Mike wasn’t going to stick around no matter how much abuse Jay hurled at him, proving that Mike didn’t love him enough, because nobody could. Mike failed the test, but he passed it, too, because they both had a lot of brutal soul searching to do before they could be together for real. “You don’t have to do that anymore,” Mike says, staring into Jay’s eyes and daring him to pretend not to know what he means: the testing and doubting and clinging to his certainty that because other people abandoned him, Mike will, too. “Okay?”

Jay runs his tongue over his teeth and nods. He kisses Mike softly on the lips, pets the stubble on his cheeks. 

“Please,” he says, shaky-voiced again.

Mike knows what he’s asking for. During the hardest times in their relationship, when they both felt like they were in freefall with only each other to grab onto even after a fight, sex was the way they comforted each other. He leans over and presses Jay down to the couch, starts pulling off his sweat-scented clothes. 

Jay smells even dirtier without his clothes on, his skin extra fragrant and salty against Mike’s tongue. It makes Mike growl with pleasure while he kisses and licks Jay all over, sucking his most sensitive spots into his mouth and holding them between his teeth gently, then less gently. Jay makes gasping noises of approval and rubs at Mike’s head, messing up his hair. Mike knows Jay likes that, when his hair is disordered from fucking, from Jay’s fingers. Mike likes it, too, on Jay. 

“Gonna fuck you so hard,” Mike says when he’s tearing open his own pants, because their comfort fucks were always hard ones. “You want that?” he asks, though Jay is already nodding wildly and breathing in excited huffs through his wet, parted lips. 

“Yes, god,” Jay says. He’s got his naked legs wrapped around Mike’s thighs, which is making it hard for Mike to get his jeans off, but he doesn’t want to tell Jay to let go. “Please, Mike. I need it so fuh, fucking hard, please.” 

“I know you do,” Mike says, diving down to kiss his mouth, half out of his jeans. “I know, Jay.”

Mike’s dick is so full that he’s shaking, or maybe he’s shaking for some other reason. He feels like he needs to come already and also like he might just last a heroically long time. He grinds down against Jay when they’re both fully undressed, not wanting to part from him long enough to find lube. 

“I love your hair like this,” Mike says, feeling sappy and looking for an excuse to stay on top of Jay. “Makes me want you so bad.”

Jay recoils a little, then grins.

“Filthy and lank?” he says, touching it to double check that this is its current state.

“Yes,” Mike says, also stroking his fingers through it. “What does that make me? Some kind of pervert?”

“Probably. You like it when I look like I live on the street, like somebody you have to rescue.”

“No,” Mike says, though that’s true. “It’s like-- You’re not hiding from me. Or hiding less of yourself, when you’re not all perfect looking.”

Jay scoffs. “I’ve never been perfect looking.” 

He doesn’t deny that he hides, at least.

“You know what I mean,” Mike says. He pushes himself up onto his hands and knees with a grunt, disconnecting. “Where’s your lube?”

Jay says he’ll get it and Mike says no, which leads to him walking naked into Jay’s bedroom and peering around at everything in almost wet-eyed awe. He’s flicked the overhead light on so he can find his way to the bedside drawer where Jay told him he’ll find the lube. The bed is unmade, and Mike recognizes the dusky blue sheets from Jay’s videos. Across from the bed is a cheap desk with a nice computer and editing equipment, and a coaster under an empty red mug. Mike touches the rim of the mug as he walks past, feeling nostalgic for every little detail of Jay, as if he’s not in the other room waiting for Mike to fuck him. Mike has dreamed of being in this room so many times while watching Jay’s videos, and also while not watching them. He’s memorized every detail that can be seen by the camera on the desk and is fascinated by the corners of the room that are new to him, and by a pair of ratty old slippers by the bed. He considers carrying Jay in here and fucking him on the bed, but it’s almsot too sacred, or maybe too wrapped up in the baggage of Jay’s webcam adventures. He gets the lube and hurries back into the doorway, turning to take one last look. 

Something on top of the dresser catches his eye. The dresser is new to him entirely, pushed up against the far wall and out of sight of the camera. Unlike Mike’s dresser, which is always cluttered with miscellaneous crap, there are only three framed photos on top of the dresser. One is a recent picture of Jay with his mom and youngest sister, and another is an old one of Jay and his other sister as kids, both of them white blond and smiling in a queasy way, like someone is telling them to. The third one is a picture of Jay that Mike recognizes. It’s not like him to have a framed photo of just himself, and Mike’s heart balloons when he realizes why: Mike took that picture on the premiere night of the first bad movie he and Jay made together. Jay still looks like a kid, especially in the dorky button-up shirt and too-big jacket he’s wearing. It was Mike’s jacket, one he never got back after they broke up, and the way Jay is looking at the camera, with a smug little grin, his eyes sarcastic but bright, makes it feel like Mike is in the picture, too-- At least, to Mike it does, because he was there, and only he would know. 

He walks back into the living room with the lube, trying not to look like he might start crying over how much he loves Jay for having that picture, and for loving the way Mike saw him enough to frame it and keep it as a reminder to himself. Mike hopes it was a talisman when Jay was at his lowest, keeping a light on inside him to show Mike the way home to him someday: now, finally. 

“What?” Jay says when he sees the broken-up look on Mike’s face as he lowers back down onto the couch, onto Jay. 

“Nothing,” Mike says. He’ll explain later, maybe. For now he kisses Jay and sighs into his mouth as he presses their bodies together again. He laughs under his breath and buries his face against Jay’s throat to breathe in the scent of him when he considers that they’re lying in the opposite direction from the one they faced during their first time together, also on a couch. It’s probably a good omen of some kind. 

“Don’t be all sighing and googly-eyed,” Jay says, though he’s touching Mike’s face like he doesn’t entirely hate it. “Mess me up bad. You can clean me up after.” 

Mike pins Jay’s hands over his head, against the arm of the couch, and with his other hand hikes Jay’s hips up so he can reach down between his spread open legs and tease his hole with a dry, evil fingertip until Jay is whining and straining against Mike’s grip on his wrists, calling Mike a shithead in a fond, begging way that makes his voice crack. 

“Oh, that’s not how you wanted to be messed up bad?” Mike says, grinning and still rubbing Jay in slow circles with his finger, his mouth just short of pressed to Jay’s while he huffs and curses. “No?”

“Fuck me, please,” Jay says, and Mike snorts when he can hear the clear difference between Jay’s fake I’m-gonna-cry wibbly sex voice and the way his voice was truly wrecked when he was actually crying. 

“Still a slut for my cock after all these years,” Mike says. “And a fucking brat, too.” 

“You like it,” Jay says, pretend meek, eyelashes fluttering. “How I get. For you.” 

“Fuckin’ love it. Love it more than anything.” 

Mike withholds the impulse to say that he loves Jay more than anything, because it goes without saying and Jay will snarl at him. He gives Jay what he’s begging for instead, slicking his dick and Jay’s ass up good before folding Jay in half with his knees pressed to his shoulders. He watches Jay’s face while he finally slides his cock into him, thinking of how he’d frame this if he had a camera and how nothing would be artful enough to capture how good it feels to be inside Jay, on top of him. Jay is open mouthed as if in awe, holding his legs back for Mike and moaning steadily while his ass squeezes up around Mike’s dick like he can pull it in faster that way, deeper. 

“All the fuck the way in now,” Mike says, like Jay can’t tell, when he’s balls deep. “You like me there? That where you want me?”

“Mike,” Jay says, and he shudders so hard that Mike thinks he might be coming just from this after all that teasing. “Yeah,” he says, barely getting the word out when he opens his eyes again. “That’s where I want you, yeah.” 

He’s already slurry and looking almost sleepy with satisfaction, eyelids heavy over fat pupils. He groans when Mike pulls his hips back and again when he pushes in hard, fast, already setting the rhythm he knows Jay wants, putting one foot on the floor to get better traction and fucking into him so hard that the couch jerks across the floor with every thrust. Jay comes within maybe a minute of this ruthless pounding, hands over his mouth to muffle how it makes him sob a little, spilling all over himself. 

“Fuck yeah,” Mike says, feeling triumphant, like this is the first time he’s ever fucked Jay to orgasm. “Say you’re mine,” he says, without meaning to. 

“Mike,” Jay says, wibbly in a real way now, eyes shining up at him, and the way he says Mike’s name like that is good enough, better actually. 

Mike does last heroically long, and Jay gets a little hard again, then a lot when Mike pauses in his thrusting to catch his breath and starts jacking Jay’s dick while he squirms on Mike’s cock and pants up at him. 

“What if I rode you a little,” Mike says, feeling like he could come if he wanted to but also like he’s suddenly and supernaturally in control of when he will, in a brand new way that also makes him feel invincible, and a bit like he’s directing the best movie of his career, though he’s so fucking glad there isn’t a camera in the room to accidentally capture anything. 

“Rode me?” Jay says, like he’s unfamiliar with the concept, then he grins. He’s all sweat-soaked, the temperature in the apartment having risen what feels like twenty degrees since they started fucking. “Oh god-- Mike. Whatever you want. I could come again-- Yeah.”

Mike pulls out of Jay, then kisses him for the heartbreak noise he made he made when Mike slid free. He slicks Jay’s dick up while still kissing him, eyes open so he can watch his face. 

“When’s the last time you--?” Jay says, smiling up at Mike, sweet. 

“Uh,” Mike says. He doesn’t really want to talk about his ex-wife right now, but she was pretty into pegging for a while. “Years.” 

“Do you know,” Jay says, then he seems to reconsider, but says the rest anyway. “You’re the only one, like. Ever, for me.” 

“Jesus,” Mike says, happier about this than he has any right to be. “Good.”

Jay seems to try to scoff at that, but it comes out more like a whimper, because Mike is lowering himself onto Jay’s dick, already groaning for how good it feels to use his body to feel good in this other way, and to still be the one in control. Jay tends to look even smaller when Mike is squatting on top of him like this, holding his shoulders down and bouncing on his dick.

Mike will be sore, but he doesn’t care, fucks himself on Jay with abandon and grins in triumph when Jay quakes underneath him comes again, his hands sliding pathetically over Mike’s thighs while he spills inside him. Mike doesn’t let him recover, just pulls off with a grunt and flips Jay onto his side before lining up behind him and pushing into him again, ready to blow but also never wanting this to end. 

“God,” Jay says, eyes closed, clawing at the couch cushions. “God, fuck, ah--” 

“Shh,” Mike says. He leans down to lick and bite at Jay’s ear, grinding deep inside him, making room for himself in there. “I know, you’re all sensitive, mph. Fucking love it when you’re all softened up like this. Gonna let me keep fucking you till you cry?”

“Mm not crying,” Jay says. He jams his ass back and hisses, shivering from the overstimulation when Mike meets him with a hard jab of his hips. “Fuck, Mike--”

“You’re okay, Jay. Gonna fill you up now, you want that?”

“Yes, fuck, please--” 

“Beg me.” 

“I am! Please, ah-- Ah! Mike, _Mike_ \--” 

Then he’s just mouthing against the cushion in slurring attempts to say Mike’s name until Mike finishes inside him, burying him against the couch in a puddle of his own drool. 

Mike is lost to it by then, too, his face full of Jay’s hair and the sex-wrecked, unwashed smell of him. He feels caveman-like, wants to clean Jay up by giving him a tongue bath and then hold him between his legs by a fire pit while the stars come out. 

“You okay?” Mike asks when he can think again.

Jay laughs weakly and nods. 

“Pull out, though,” he says. “You’re, like, bumping my prostate, and m’gonna die if you get me hard again.” 

Jay makes a drained, happy noise as Mike slides out of him carefully. Mike feels like he’s going to collapse, his legs and ass sore, arms shaking as he leans up over Jay to kiss and nose at his neck. He also feels like he hasn’t eaten in weeks, almost dizzy with hunger when he stands to get them some towels. 

“Actually,” Mike says, stopping in his tracks when he’s halfway to the bathroom. He’s thinking of that cursed Dude Bros video, unwillingly, but it’s not an entirely bad thought. “You said I could clean you up,” he says, walking back toward the couch, where Jay is flopped on his stomach, Mike’s come leaking out of his ass and onto the cushions. “Can I give you a bath?” Mike asks, squatting down to touch Jay’s hair. His ass is also leaking, though less messily, as Jay didn’t come that much the second time.

“Bath?” Jay says, lifting his chin enough to blink at Mike. “Like. In a fetishy way?”

“What the hell are you talking about? Like a bath, Jay, like you sit in the tub and I wash you.”

“That sounds like a fetish thing to me.” 

“That’s cause you’re demented, I guess. It’s a thing people do. It’s called affection, okay? It’s comforting.”

“For you, maybe,” Jay says, but he’s smiling, rolling onto his side in a boneless way that would give Mike an erection if he hadn’t just emptied his balls so powerfully. “Sure, Mike,” Jay says, pawing at him. “Just don’t pretend you’re not getting off on it.”

“You’re demonic,” Mike says. He kisses Jay on the forehead for it, approving, and goes to fill the tub. He makes it so full that it might overflow a little when Jay gets in, thinking of the meager inches of water that Jay’s character got in that video. 

Jay is a surprisingly good sport about the bath. He even lets Mike kneel beside the tub and gently wash his hair, with ceremony. Mike is getting off on this, it’s true, and Jay probably finds the fact that it’s a love and tenderness thing even more embarrassing than his attempt to characterize it as a sex fetish, but the those things aren’t completely disconnected, when it comes to Jay, for Mike.

“Do you have food here?” Mike asks while he’s washing Jay’s back for maybe the third time, Jay letting it happen while almost dozing, his knees pulled up and head resting on top of them, over his folded arms. “And, more importantly, do you have any booze?”

“I think there’s some vodka in the freezer,” Jay says. “Food situation is iffy.” 

“We could order something?”

Jay shakes his head, and Mike sees his shoulders stiffen. He’s still in some kind of panic paralysis when it comes to opening the front door for anyone but Mike. 

“I have a plan for tomorrow,” Mike says, wanting to soothe his fears. 

“Tell me later,” Jay says. “I want a drink.” 

He stays in the tub, adding more hot water while Mike goes to the kitchen and pours them both a double shot of vodka over ice. He glances at the letters but doesn’t touch them, and on the way back to the bathroom checks the peep hole on the apartment’s front door. Nobody’s outside, so far as he can see. 

“You shouldn’t drink on an empty stomach,” he says when he hands Jay his drink. “I found several viable things for dinner in your kitchen.”

“You did?” Jay’s eyebrows go up. He toasts Mike’s glass. “Like what?”

“Rice. Frozen peas.” 

“Those peas have been in there for like eighty years, but. I guess they’re still good. What else?”

“Smoked almonds.”

“Ooh, I forgot I had those.” 

“Also canned tuna, which is gross, but you could probably use the protein.” 

Jay snorts and drinks from his glass. He’s grinning up at Mike after swallowing. 

“This bath was a good idea,” he says, reclining back with his arms stretched along the sides of the tub. “I’m gonna stay in it till the hot water runs out.”

“Fine by me. I’ll start boiling some water for rice.” 

“Let’s just stay here in my shitty apartment forever,” Jay says. He’s possibly already drunk. “I don’t want to engage with the real world anymore.” 

“Sure,” Mike says. “I’ll be your manservant.”

“Yes, obviously.”

Mike makes a dinner that should potentially be an abomination, peas and tuna chunks mixed in with jasmine rice and chopped almonds, but they’re both so hungry that they mutually declare it delicious and barely pause to take a breath while they devour it, cleaning their bowls. When they’re finished, they both have another drink and Mike tells Jay about his plan to bring Josh and Jocelyn with them when they go to the police with the letters from his stalker. 

“We’ll have lawyer armor,” Mike says, holding Jay’s hand at his sad little dining room table, which is pushed into a corner in the tiny dining nook beside the also tiny kitchen. “Those two will know how to handle it.” 

“Josh has helped me before,” Jay says, looking uncertain about how much this will ease the pain. 

“Right, so he knows the case, and Jocelyn specializes in advocating for sex workers. And I’ll be there,” he adds, squeezing Jay’s fingers. “We’ll make sure the guy does time for parole violation.” 

“I almost feel sorry for him,” Jay says, looking queasy. “His life must be so sad.” 

“Yeah, well, he doesn’t deserve your pity and doesn’t get to menace you anymore. If he needs therapy, that’s his business. And you should move out of this place, jesus. What were you thinking, coming back here?” 

Mike feels bad for letting that out, is pretty sure it’s victim blaming. Jay stiffens and frowns a little. He finishes his drink and shrugs. 

“I couldn’t be in Simon’s place for another second,” he says. “I couldn’t stand any of it anymore. This place feels like-- Where I go when I’m running away from everything. When I’m just resolved to be alone.” 

Mike stares at him, still holding his hand, wondering if he needs to say out loud that Jay doesn’t have to be alone anymore, that he never did. Jay licks his lips and looks down at their hands.

“Can we get in bed?” he asks. “I feel drunk and-- Weird.” 

“Sure,” Mike says. “Unless you’d rather sleep at my place?”

“No, I want to sleep here. Too tired to go anywhere, and. As long as you’re here, I’m okay.”

Mike stands, pulls Jay up from his chair and gathers him in close to kiss him for that. Jay gets up onto his tiptoes and hugs Mike’s neck, kissing him back like he needs it, too. 

While Jay brushes his teeth, Mike sends texts to Simon, Josh, and Jocelyn, explaining the situation in words tailored to each of them. Josh replies right away that he’s free tomorrow to help, and Simon says ‘great, thanks Mike.’ By the time Mike is settling into Jay’s bed and putting his phone on the table beside it he has a reply from Jocelyn that says she’ll call him in the morning. 

“I dreamed about being in this bed so many times,” Mike says when they’ve got the lights turned off and they’re holding each other under Jay’s blankets, lying face to face with their heads pressed together on his pillow. 

“I know,” Jay says. “I told you, just. Every time I woke up my first instinct was to want you there, and then hate myself for making sure you weren’t.” 

“I mean this bed specifically,” Mike says, rubbing Jay’s shivery back. He smells so good. A freshly scrubbed Jay is just as hot to Mike as the filthy version. “‘Cause, uhh. I used to watch your videos.” 

“Really?” Jay beams, looking happier than he has in days. “Oh my god. How embarrassing.” 

“Yeah, yeah. Laugh it up. I missed you, and. Uh. Had several subscriptions.” 

“Several?” 

Jay snickers, and laughs hard when Mike rubs his fingers into his ticklish spots vengefully. 

“No, that’s--” Jay says, still laughing and trying to wiggle free from Mike’s hands. “Of course I hoped-- I used to get comments sometimes and think, jesus. That sounds like Mike. And I’d convince myself I was nuts, that there was no way, but. I always kinda hoped.” 

He’s smiling so wide, Mike wishes he had a camera. He considers grabbing his phone and snapping a picture, but Jay would slap it out of his hand. 

“Glad this pleases you,” Mike says. “Did you ever watch my movies?”

“A few. They mostly enraged me. ‘Cause I wanted to be making movies with you, still. And the rest of the clowns you worked with just weren’t good enough.” 

“Hmph. Well, my current guys are really good.” 

“Oh, sure, they’ve been fine. But, you know. Nobody ever elevated this stuff to something actually interesting the way me and you did. In my opinion.” 

“Speaking of former collaborators,” Mike says, not ready to talk about their current project and what will happen next with production, or Jay’s demented earlier insistance that Mike could be making ‘real’ movies. “I blindsided Lance at work the other day.”

“Jesus-- Really? Why? Oh.” Jay rolls his eyes. “Did you think he leaked the video? Mike, you fucker. I never showed anybody. Least of all him. Why would I?”

“I know, I know. I dunno. I needed closure or something. He was nice. Nicer than I deserved.”

“How’d you figure out that Gil did it?” Jay asks. He’s stroking Mike’s chest a little frantically, like Mike is a beast who needs to be calmed while they discuss sensitive subjects. Mike sort of loves it. “Did he confess?”

“Yeah, after he tried to ball me out for shutting down production. I thought about how we let him copy our files when he redid the website, realized it was him, and he didn’t deny it.”

“Did you-- Mike. Please tell me you didn’t punch him.”

“I didn’t! Of course I didn’t.”

Jay raises his eyebrows. Mike smirks. 

“Okay, I came close. But I resisted the urge. You know what almost set me off? He called you my muse.”

“Fucking christ,” Jay says, scrunching his nose up in disgust. “He called me that in that article he was interviewed for, too. Of course he’d think of me that way.” 

Mike doesn’t want to say that Gil isn’t totally wrong. Jay inspires him and exists in a kind of superhuman space where Mike will always obsess over him as if from afar, even when they’re together like this, cozy and warm. It’s just a dumb word for what Jay is to him, not good enough. 

Mike falls asleep before Jay does, drifting off with his face buried between Jay’s pecs while Jay strokes his hair. He wakes up feeling unsettled, and realizes why when he looks around the room and sees the camera on Jay’s desk pointed at the bed. It’s not on, and Jay is fast asleep, pressed against him, but the camera’s presence makes the hair on the back of Mike’s neck stand up, though he wouldn’t strictly mind if a livestream of Jay sleeping in his arms was being broadcast. There are just too many specific people who shouldn’t see it: the fucking stalker, first off, also Gil, and poor Simon. 

He gets up, grabs the t-shirt he was wearing earlier, and drapes it over the camera, just in case. Jay stirs and sighs in bed. He rolls over to show Mike the pale curve of his back when Mike climbs under the blankets again. Mike spoons up around him and breathes in the scent of him that’s so strong at the crown of his head, also on these bedsheets. 

“Where’d you go,” Jay mumbles, sounding like he might be talking in his sleep. 

“Nowhere,” Mike says. He kisses the back of Jay’s head and pushes his knees in tight up behind Jay’s legs. “I’ve always been here,” he says, thinking of the photo on the dresser that seems more like a picture of Mike than of Jay, because it captures Mike’s love eyes for him. It’s a perfect reproduction of how they were shining on Jay that day, before Mike had ever even kissed him. 

In the morning Mike lets Jay sleep in while he calls Jocelyn. She seems energized by the idea of helping and says she has a social worker friend who can help Jay process the fallout and deal with the cops in the future, someone who handles this kind of thing for clients all the time. 

“You’re not gonna lecture me?” Mike says, standing in Jay’s kitchen in his boxers, hungry again and hoping Jay will want to eat a huge, decadent brunch after they take care of this other business. 

“Lecture you on what?” Joceyln says, though her tone tells him she knows. “Mike, you’re like a dog with a bone. I’m not going to try to pry Jay out of your mouth.”

“We talked for real last night,” Mike says, whispering, though he’s pretty sure Jay is still asleep. “He was honest with me, and vulnerable. We really hashed some things out.” 

There’s a pause. 

“If you’re happy, I’m happy for you,” she says. It sounds true. “I remember helping you guys with your camerawork way back when, seeing the way he handled you and preened for you. I think-- I saw that it made you happy, getting bossed around by that little shrimp. I think that’s the happiest I’ve ever seen you. So that’s your journey.”

Mike snorts at the cheesy phrasing. Jocelyn laughs and says she’ll meet them at noon at the precinct where she’s already made an appointment with a detective she’s worked with before and likes. 

Back in the bedroom, Jay is still out cold. Mike gets back in bed and combs his fingers through Jay’s hair. Mike’s t-shirt is still draped over the camera across from the bed. There have been many jokes on Jay’s platforms that people would pay to watch him sleep, but only Mike gets to see him like this: eyebrows twitching when he almost wakes for Mike’s touch, his bottom lip shiny and bright pink, cheeks flushed, hair messy. 

“Mike,” Jay says, maybe in a dream. 

“I’m here,” Mike says, curling in close around him. “You need me?” 

“Mph,” Jay says. He nods against his pillow, then seems to be asleep again, or still.

Later they meet Josh and Jocelyn at the precinct as planned, and the detective who accepts the letters into evidence as a parole violation is indeed helpful, understanding, and non-judgemental, as Jocelyn promised. Jocelyn does most of the talking, and says she’ll call Mike when she hears about an arrest and trial date. 

“Unless you’d prefer me to call you directly?” she says to Jay, who shakes his head.

“No,” he says. “Just tell Mike. He’ll tell me.”

Mike puffs up a little, proud to be Jay’s bodyguard-like buffer for any news about this. Jocelyn smiles, seeing this, and nods. 

The four of them go out for brunch together and get a patio table at Josh’s favorite place, which is so deliberate in its commitment to not being pretentious that it loops back around to pretentiousness again, but the atmosphere is worth it because the food is good. Mike has been before, with Candy. It’s a beautiful day, the warm weather starting to mellow a little as autumn approaches, and being in a crowd alongside Mike and their friends seems to bring Jay back to life, his troubled complexion brightening under the sun. He lets Mike pour him refills from the mimosa pitcher and eats a lot, also laughs a lot. 

“I would recommend relocating immediately,” Jocelyn says to Jay when they’re discussing some of the particulars of how his stalker will be processed by the system, probably slowly.

“Okay,” Jay says. He leans against Mike, who is mildly buzzed and overfull, his arm draped across the back of Jay’s chair. Jay gives him a sideways glance, looking nervous. 

“Yeah, he can move in with me for a while,” Mike says, rubbing Jay’s shoulder, like they already decided this. “Sound good?” he asks, turning to Jay and trying to appear casual, as if issuing this invitation hasn’t made his heart pound. 

“Uh-huh,” Jay says. He touches Mike’s leg under the table and looks back at Jocelyn. “We’ve got to finish our movie, anyway. Mike was driving downtown to pick me up every day and then to the studio by his place, then back afterward.” 

“True service,” Josh says, winking at Mike from over his mimosa glass. “What do they call it in the Bible or whatever? A servant’s heart? You’ve got that, Mike.”

“You’re drunk,” Jay says, laughing. “Let us give you a ride home.” 

“I am, and I accept!”

“He’s talking about love languages, I think,” Jocelyn says, giving Josh a questioning look. “Acts of service.” 

“Ughhh,” Jay says, sinking under Mike’s arm. “Can we talk about something else?”

“Yeah,” Mike says. “That’s way too hardcore for Jay’s delicate sensibilities.” 

“I just find it tedious to try to put labels on that kind of thing,” Jay says, his ears getting red. “Anybody who tells you it can be broken down into some language system is selling something.”

“Indeed,” Jocelyn says. “In this case, the person who made up the love languages is selling a book about it.” 

“They might still be real,” Mike says, feeling like he needs to speak on up in defense of love. “I mean, look at what me and Jay sell. There’s still real feeling in it, and truth.”

“Truth!” Josh says, toasting him. “Amen, brother.” 

They split up the check and drive Josh home after saying goodbye to Jocelyn. When it’s just the two of them in the car, Mike asks Jay if he wants to collect anything from his apartment to bring over to Mike’s place.

“Not yet,” Jay says. “Later, maybe. Or you could get it for me.” 

“Okay,” Mike says. He has the sense that Jay never wants to go back there, not even alongside him, as if they performed some kind of past-mistakes-resolving ritual there and it will be spoiled if he crosses the threshold again, or maybe it’s because his stalker knows he lives there. Mike doesn’t press him about it, just takes him home to his place and takes him right to bed. 

They’re both sleepy after eating so much, and too full to have sex but also not tired enough to actually nap. They make out lazily in Mike’s bed and talk about needing to call Simon and reconfigure the shoot schedule, neither of them willing to get up and do so yet. 

“I have a new idea for the end of the movie,” Mike says, ready to tell him now. “It’s extremely insane and would be near impossible to get right, but. If we pulled it off it would be fucking amazing.” 

“Oh?” Jay grins and curls closer to him. Jay’s eyes legitimately get brighter green when Mike starts talking about a new thing that he wants to make with him. Mike would try to capture this on camera if it wasn’t too sacred to be documented. “That’s-- Intriguing. What is it?” 

Mike tells him. Jay laughs at him and says he’s out of his mind, but also that he wants to try it, because it’s kind of genius in a dumb, sweet way. 

“That’s my brand,” Mike says. 

“You’re not dumb,” Jay says, still grinning. This time the brightness isn’t just in his eyes. He’s lit up all over, vibrating with it on a wavelength only Mike can feel. “And you’re not that sweet.”

“Sure I am. What’s your love language, by the way?”

“Uhh. Something like. Lynchian nightmare. Hard to make sense of. Gory, disorienting, haunting. Intentionally left open to interpretation.” 

Now Mike is lit up, too, grinning and petting Jay’s side, proud of him, because that’s astoundingly accurate. Mike would know, because that’s the language that speaks directly to his soul, even when he has no idea what the hell is going on. Maybe especially then. His appreciation of it doesn’t translate to that type of movie, because those just annoy him more often than not, but when it’s coming from Jay he can’t get enough.

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THREE SONGS:
> 
> Most importantly: [Still](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9LPNesOJ9KQ)
> 
> Also: [Waves That Rolled You Under](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iwqLG3KUa6U)
> 
> And: [Old Friends](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pAtGGZjVRdo)
> 
> <3

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks again to my friend AnnInymouse for sending me this song, which is the theme song for the whole fic (other songs will be linked along the way, too!) and a big inspiration for the emotional premise, gonna post it upfront to establish the TONE, at least at the outset here:
> 
> [Night Shift by Lucy Dacus](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0WDZdT04ls4)


End file.
